Your World
by Aebbe
Summary: James Sirius Potter has left his school days behind. But adult life comes with a whole lot of complications - jobs, responsibilities, the overwhelming pressure to live up to his famous and successful parents. Not to mention somehow finding a way to be with a girl who lives in an entirely different world - and who isn't sure she wants to be part of his.
1. Rendezvous

**A/N: If you haven't already, you might want to read some of my other stories before you come to this one, specifically HOUSE OF CARDS and THESE MORTALS. It's not compulsory, and I hope you can enjoy this even without doing that, but the whole initial situation will make more sense if you've read them, and you'll know who my second protagonist is.**

 **This story starts a few weeks after THESE MORTALS ends.**

* * *

Hazel waited for him by the river, her insides swirling like the brown January waters of the Lune that ran past beside her.

In some ways, she was here against her better judgement. A large part of her mind told her that it would have been better to leave it as it had been settled. Yes, she had behaved unfairly to him, but they had had no contact for five months. He had not tried to get in touch in that time, which surely meant that he was over her by now. The whole thing was something that should never have happened, and now that it was over it should remain over. It had been a random colliding of worlds, nothing more. He was arrogant and thoughtless, a reckless rule-breaker, and well-known for his casual habits with girls. Not to mention being her best friend's worst enemy. All reasons why she should have left well alone.

And yet here she was. Because almost dying with someone bound your life up with theirs in ways that were unexpected and confusing. Because he was also charming and funny, treated her with respect, and was annoyingly, undeniably attractive. Because she felt guilty for the way she had treated him. Because she had finally managed to clear things up with Scorpius, and he'd told her she should make her own decision rather than base it on what he thought. And because, in those five months, she'd found that she missed him a lot more than she'd thought she would.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned round as they stopped. There he was, standing just a couple of metres away, looking exactly the same as he had the last time she'd seen him. Brown hair casually tousled, broad shoulders, not tall but taller than her, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. Her heart thumped, and it wasn't entirely nervousness.

"Hey," he said.

His voice didn't hold much of the confidence or amusement it usually did. In fact, she thought he might be as nervous as she was, and that made her feel a bit better.

"Hi," she said, and gave him a small smile.

This seemed to encourage him, and he smiled back.

"How've you been?"

"Oh, fine, thanks," she said, wishing this could be less awkward. "How's adult life going"

He laughed. "Adult life's overrated. But it's okay, I suppose."

Hazel took a deep breath. If she put it off, she'd never get round to talking about it.

"I'm sorry, James," she said. "For the way I treated you, I mean. It wasn't fair. I should have at least given you an explanation, instead of just running away like that."

For a moment, he just looked steadily at her. She tried to read his expression, but she didn't know what to make of it. Then he sighed, moved across beside her and leaned forward against the railing that separated them from the edge of the quayside and the river. He looked down, as she had done, at the water.

"Well, I'm sorry too," he said. "I probably shouldn't have kissed you like that. I pushed things too fast. I just, well, I thought you, y'know, wanted the same thing…"

"James." She stopped him, dismayed by the implication of what he thought he'd done. "You don't have to say sorry for that. I _did_ want it. I mean, you literally stopped and said 'is this okay?' and I said yes! That isn't why I left."

"You left because your best friend hates me." He spoke evenly, and it wasn't a question.

"It wasn't about the fact that he hates you – it was about the _reasons_ he hates you. And I know you're not that person underneath, but I just… Well, I'd been pretending all summer. Pretending it was all no big deal, and that it didn't matter that I hadn't told him, because it wasn't anything important. And then you kissed me and I realised I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't keep on pretending, James. I couldn't ignore it, or act like his feelings didn't matter. He's too important to me. And I didn't know what to do, so I just panicked. _That's_ why I ran away."

"Well." He tried for a light tone. "I suppose that's better than thinking you were suddenly disgusted by me." He glanced sideways at her. "So us meeting today… Is this you giving us some closure before we say goodbye? I mean, obviously I understand if it is. I'd just kind of like to know where we stand, because all you said was that you wanted to talk. Which usually doesn't mean anything good."

"I don't really know," she admitted. "I _do_ want to talk – I don't know what else I want. Honestly, everything in my head's telling me I ought to just end it and let it go, but I couldn't do that. I couldn't leave things up in the air the way they were." And she'd _missed_ him, but she didn't know how to say that. "Plus," she went on hurriedly, "I wouldn't mind knowing what the hell _this_ is about."

From the front pocket of her bag, she produced a piece of the thick, heavy parchment witches and wizards liked to write on. He looked at it, puzzled.

"What is it?"

"A letter I got." She held it out to him.

He took it, unfolded it, and started to read. His puzzlement changed to shock, and then to horror, and she watched his face turn dark red. After a moment, he looked up.

"I'm going to kill him," he said, his voice sounding slightly strained, as if fighting with some emotion.

"I take it he is who he says he is, then?" she asked.

"Oh yeah." He laughed, although he didn't sound very amused. "Of course he is – this could only be a member of my family."

Her first reaction to the letter, when she had received it, had also been shock. Then it had turned to anger, and she had thought at first that James himself must have been behind it, but his response just now had just proved that he was not. That was a relief, and left room for her to start seeing the funny side.

"D'you think he actually knows that influenza is just the flu?" she asked conversationally.

James looked back down at the letter. "No. I'm going to guess he got it from a book."

"A book written sometime in the first half of the twentieth century, maybe? Because I don't know about the magical world, but for us, flu isn't really that serous - at least, not if you're eighteen and otherwise totally healthy, which I assume you are. I mean, not to downplay the idea of you dying from it or anything…"

His lips twitched. "Well, to be fair, he doesn't actually say I'm dying."

"No, he just implies it's possible," she agreed. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm glad you're not."

She caught his eye, and a moment later they both dissolved into laughter.

By the time she could speak again, the awkwardness had somehow faded.

"Merlin, I'm so incredibly sorry about him," he said at last, recovering.

She opened her mouth to speak, but all that actually came out was: " _Why_?"

"I don't know. Well, that's a lie. I think I probably do know."

"So, are you going to tell me?" she asked, after a slight pause. "Come on, you have to now."

"He overheard me talking about you," he said reluctantly. "Well, he actually overheard my brother mention you to me."

"You and your brother were talking about me?" she interrupted.

He'd gone red again. "Please don't make this even more embarrassing than it already is. He heard part of a conversation, and started asking questions about you. And he doesn't know how to mind his own business and keep out of other people's lives. I expect he thought he was helping."

"Helping to do what, exactly?" she asked.

She was quite keen to know what they'd been saying about her, and why it had prompted James's cousin to do this. The letter was entirely ridiculous, but it was definitely an attempt to push them together, which meant that James must have given his cousin the impression he wanted to see her.

"Well, you know," he mumbled, staring at the water. "I wanted to talk to you, but you'd said you didn't want me to contact you, so there wasn't anything I could do, was there? It was kind of driving me a bit crazy, though. He doesn't know what happened, or about anything you said," he added hastily. "He barely knows anything actually, but he obviously worked out some of it."

She _had_ told him not to contact her, although now it seemed stupid and melodramatic, especially when he hadn't really done anything wrong, to be banished from her life. She'd just been looking for any way out of the situation, and for some reason she'd thought it would be easier if she never saw him again. She'd been wrong about that.

"Well, when you think about it, it sort of worked," she said with a small laugh. "If he was trying to get us in the same place – here we are."

He also laughed. "I s'pose so. He's still an interfering little shit."

"Must run in the family then," she commented. "I mean, given that this is coming from the guy who had a go at his sister because she went to the pub with someone he doesn't like…"

He groaned. "You heard about that?"

"Of course I did. I talk to Scorpius as well, you know. Although he's very sure that he's only friends with your sister, nothing more, so there's probably nothing to get excited about there. Still, you can't say much about your cousin _interfering._ "

"Hey, you should be as annoyed as me!" he protested. "It affects you too!"

"Yeah, well I was, at first. Now I just think it's funny, more than anything. Plus…" She hesitated, then ploughed on. "I'm actually kind of glad. The letter's stupid, of course, but I actually did want to talk to you. I owed you an explanation. Only I was putting it off, because I didn't know what I was going to say, and I kept thinking it would maybe be easier not to. Then this sort of… pushed me into it. Partly because I wanted to know where the hell it came from."

"Right." He sounded uncertain again. "So now that you've explained and stuff, where does that leave us? Because I just want to say," he went on, before she could respond, "that what I said in the summer still applies. And I know you've got loads of good reasons not to want to see me, let alone go out with me, and that most of them are to do with things I did in the past, so there's nothing I can do to undo them. I just… well, I s'pose I just want to know if I've got any chance at all, and if there's anything I could do to give myself a chance. And if not, I totally get it, and I hope we can still be friends. I'll get it if you don't want that either, though. I just need to _know_ , that's all…"

She watched him as the words came rattling out, her fingers gripping the railing and a pale sun catching the red-gold highlights in his brown hair, his face half tilted towards her and his eyes anxious and unhappy. She'd come here today with no idea of what decision to make, or where their conversation would take them, just knowing they had to have it. Thoughts and arguments and counter-arguments had been going round and round inside her head for months. And now suddenly they'd all flown away, and the future was still an unknown blank, but the decision for right now was crystal clear in her mind. In fact it was barely a decision. Sometimes, you had to stop thinking too much.

Hazel gripped the front of his jacket, pulled him round and kissed his lips.

He was surprised. In the second before their lips met, she saw his eyes widen, and his mouth was open for the beginning of a word. It took him only a moment of rigid shock, however, and then he was kissing her back. It was hard, urgent, hurried, the rush from a suddenly broken dam. His chest pressed to hers, his hands on the small of her back.

And then he broke away and she looked up at him. He still held her close, hands resting on her hips, and she could see the light spread of pale freckles across his nose, and feel his heart beating – a little faster than usual, but so was hers. There was a slightly dazed expression in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"Wow. That was… not what I expected," he said softly. "Does this mean I _have_ got a chance?"

She sighed, meeting his gaze. "James, you've always had a chance, right from the first night I met you. I tried to hate you, once I found out who you were, but I couldn't ever do it. I like you, but…" She closed her eyes, almost wishing she had succeeded in managing to hate him. "Oh God, there are so many reasons why this shouldn't work."

"I know," he agreed.

She opened her eyes again, and he was frowning.

"But if we both want it, and want each other, isn't it worth at least giving it a go?" he went on, and she could hear the slightly desperate hope in his voice. "I know I don't exactly deserve it – I deserve you to hate me, but you've just said you don't. And I swear I'm trying to be less of a waste of space…"

She gave something that was almost a laugh, with a hint of a sob. "You're not a waste of space. And yes, I want to give it a go…"

"Seriously?" His eyes lit up. "I mean, is that actually a yes…?"

"Yes," she said with more assurance. "On a few conditions."

He still looked like his birthday had just arrived, but a slight wariness came into his face.

"What are they?"

She took a breath. "You have to be nice to Scorpius."

"I haven't done or said anything to him for months!" he protested.

"Yeah, because you haven't seen him for months – you left school! But if this is going to go anywhere, you're going to have to get used to being in the same space as him. I'm not saying you have to suddenly be his friend – I can't force either of you to like each other. But you have to be civil, at least. To him, _and_ about him."

He looked a little sheepish. "Well, I can probably manage that. As long as he doesn't say anything to me – or are you saying I've got to smile and be polite even then?"

She sighed again. "Well, I'd like to think you're capable of rising above it, just like I'd like to think he won't say anything to you. But fine – just don't _start_ anything."

He nodded. "Okay, got it. Is that it?"

"No." She hesitated. They still had their arms round each other, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to have this conversation right now, but it was important. At least, it was important to her. "James, the trouble is, we come from different worlds. No, we _do_ ," she went on, seeing him open his mouth to protest. "We literally do. And I know that because I've been friends with Scorpius for eleven years, and I've still never even seen the street where he does most of his shopping. And if… if we're going to go out, we have to understand each other's worlds. I can't deal with secrets and pretending."

He was looking a little puzzled, although he was nodding slowly. "Okay. I think I get that. But you already know about the magical world…"

"No, I don't," she interrupted. "Not really. I know Scorpius, and I know stuff about his life. But until recently, his parents pretended not to be magical whenever I came round. I don't know any other witches or wizards, apart from you, and for most of the time I've known him, Scorpius wasn't even allowed to do magic in the holidays. And I know I can't go to all your magical places – I get that. I'm just saying I need you to be straight with me. All the times we met up over the summer, I never saw you do any magic. But I'm guessing you must do it all the time, and that's what I mean about not pretending. I want to understand it – I want to know what's normal for you." She stopped, because a grin had appeared on his face. "What? Did I say something funny?"

"No," he assured her quickly. "I agree with you. I don't want to pretend either. But hey, you know I'm pretty sure there's nothing stopping you getting into Diagon Alley if I take you. I've seen Muggleborns' parents there loads of times. And there are other places. Not everywhere's as protected as places like Hogwarts or the Ministry."

"Really?" She stared doubtfully at him.

"Yeah, of course." He shrugged. "It might not technically be something I should do, but who's going to care? Or notice? Although actually, I don't know how public you want to make this yet. I doubt if we'd get into trouble – well, _you_ wouldn't anyway – but we'd definitely get spotted if we went to Diagon Alley."

"Well, I'd tell Scorpius first then," she said. She wasn't sure how he was going to take it, and the thought was an uncomfortable one, but she pushed it away and smiled. "There isn't anyone else _I_ know who'd be likely to hear about it. So that would be up to you. But could you actually take me there?"

"Sure. But you've already experienced how much my family likes to stick their noses in things, so let's maybe put a hold on that one for a bit – because you can guarantee we'd run into some of them there. They're everywhere." He grinned at her. "We can start somewhere else, though. What would you like to see?"

His grin was infectious, and she felt one starting on her face too. She didn't really know what there was to see other than the places they'd already mentioned, and she didn't really care. There were still plenty of difficulties to be overcome, but she found that right now she didn't really care about those either.

"Everything," she told him, pulled him down towards her and kissed him again.


	2. The Bowtruckle

**A/N: Thank you for waiting for this - sorry it's been a while. Thanks also to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. Please leave a few words if you have a moment!**

* * *

James let the office door close behind him and breathed a sigh of relief as he walked down the corridor. It was Friday, which meant that he didn't have to set foot inside the Ministry for two whole days. No paperwork or filing or making other people cups of tea until Monday rolled round. And it looked like the weather was going to be good, so he could get his broom out. Up in the air, he could almost forget about work.

Meanwhile, he had a date to get to. His mouth curled into a smile when he thought about the last few weeks. He still couldn't quite believe it was real; that this was really happening, after he had convinced himself he would never see her again. Jobs and the Ministry and the future faded away from his mind as he left the building. Tonight he only needed to think about Hazel.

"You're cheerful," his cousin Louis remarked a few minutes later, as James let himself into the house they shared with several other friends.

James immediately tried to look less cheerful, but Louis, lounging on the sofa with a bowl of something that might have been intended to be bolognese, didn't look fooled.

"Going well, is it?" he asked casually.

James kicked his shoes off and made for the other side of the room.

"I haven't a clue what you're on about. I'm going for a shower."

"Why, going somewhere tonight?" Louis asked, then dropped his show of innocence. "Oh, come on, Jamie. We live with you. We all know you're going out with someone. You've been out in the evenings and at weekends, without any of us. You've been going round whistling to yourself instead of moaning about your job." He smirked. "And don't think we didn't notice those things that looked a bit like bruises on your neck the other day. Why is it such a big secret? Who is she?"

James hesitated. His face had heated up slightly, and it was tempting to say something rude and escape quickly. But then again, if he wanted to keep seeing Hazel – and he did – he'd have to tell people some time. Most of his family didn't need to know yet, but Louis wasn't most of his family. They'd been best friends all their lives and James trusted him completely. Hazel wasn't a secret to be hidden away.

"You know who she is," he said, a little reluctantly. "She's the same person I was seeing last summer."

"Really?" Louis's eyebrows shot up. "I thought she said she didn't want to see you any more."

"She did," James admitted. "But now she's changed her mind."

"Right." Louis looked at him through narrowed eyes. "So that's been going on quite a while, then?" he said thoughtfully.

James shrugged. "Depends what you mean by 'going on'. I didn't see her for months. We've only actually been going out for a few weeks. And…" He hesitated again. "Nobody really knows yet. So keep it to yourself, yeah?"

"I won't say anything to anyone," Louis agreed. "Though Fenella and the twins pretty much already know. But what I meant was, it's kind of serious-ish?"

James ran his fingers through his hair helplessly. "Look, I… I don't know. Can you just let us, you know, figure things out?"

"Sure." Louis grinned at him. "But when are we going to get to meet her? Because anyone who's got you stammering and saying you need to figure things out has got to be something special."

James refused to dignify this with an answer, and stalked out of the room.

However, later, as he left to meet Hazel, his mind dwelt on some of what Louis had said. Why _was_ he keeping it a secret? Why not introduce Hazel to his friends, at least? That wasn't such a big deal as taking her to meet his parents or anything like that. She might freak out at that idea, and he wasn't at all sure he was ready for it himself. But he thought she'd like Louis and the others.

He met her in a park near her house, because it was easy for her to get there, and he could Apparate to a quiet place behind some bushes without anyone seeing him. It was a habit they'd fallen into over the past few weeks. He couldn't quite believe that that was how long they'd been seeing each other.

She was smiling as she came up to him, her eyes alight with something like excitement, and he eyed her quizzically.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Her smile grew wider as she stepped up to him and reached up to kiss him. Another little thing he'd never imagined would become normal. And he liked it – not just the feeling of her lips on his, but the fact that it _was_ normal. He'd never felt like that before - in the past, it had always become boring rather than pleasant and comfortable.

"Guess what?" she asked as she broke away.

"I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure you're going to tell me," he replied, laughing.

"I got offers from my two top university choices!" she said.

"Hey, that's great! Well done!" James said, with genuine feeling. A smile spread across his own face, her happiness catching, and he kissed her again, a little longer this time, one arm hooking around her waist.

"I knew you would, though," he added after a moment. "They'd be stupid not to want you."

She laughed. "Thanks. They're only conditional offers, though, so I still have to get the grades."

James had at least a vague idea of what she was talking about, because she had explained some of the process already. He couldn't pretend that he'd fully got it, or that he really completely understood what university was for and what you did there, but he knew she'd been waiting to hear the results of her application, and that this was what she'd been hoping for.

And he was happy for her, very genuinely. But he couldn't help the smallest pang at the knowledge that her life was moving in a different direction from his. Of course it was – how could it not? She wasn't a witch; she lived in the Muggle world, and her life would follow Muggle lines. University, something that was as strange a world to him as Hogwarts must be to her. It didn't have to stop them seeing each other, though, did it? But he wondered what would happen when she left school and went off to university, to start the next part of her life. Would he just be something she left behind and moved on from? One complication too many, when she was trying to forge her life?

"Are you okay?" she asked, her smile wavering for a moment.

"Yeah, course," he said at once, banishing his worries and bringing his grin back. "So, are you celebrating?"

"I don't know." Her expression also relaxed again. "It's a bit premature. I should wait for my actual results before that – and I haven't even sat the exams yet."

"True," he agreed. "Still. Nothing wrong with a small celebration, is there? Just a drink or two?"

"Okay, fine." She relented, still smiling. "Where should we go?"

They mostly went to wizarding places. For one thing, James stood out like a sore thumb in Muggle establishments, somehow much more than she did in wizarding ones. He never knew how anything worked, from his change to the automatic taps in the toilets. At least, he remarked with disgust after that last mishap had left him somewhat wet, magical things just wouldn't work for her – they wouldn't do unexpected things like spraying water out without being touched.

For another thing, Hazel wasn't eighteen yet, which meant that while Muggle coffee shops were fine, pubs and bars were more complicated, since she wasn't technically supposed to be in them. In wizarding pubs, she could drink legally, even though she was a Muggle.

However, he also knew that he had been deliberately avoiding places where he was likely to meet people he knew well, a knowledge that brought him back to the uncomfortable question of why he was keeping her a secret. Not that it was just him. He knew she hadn't told her parents, and although he thought her friends might know, he hadn't met any of them.

Although of course, Scorpius Malfoy knew, and had done for a while. Which was sort of weird that Malfoy knew more about James's life than Louis and the others did.

"Look," he said, after a bit of a pause. "There's this place – it's a pub in London, just a small one, called the Bowtruckle. It's a nice place, though. We go there pretty often."

"Okay," she agreed, though she looked quizzically at him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he said. A lie, of course. The truth was that the Bowtruckle was where Louis and the others were going to be tonight; he'd heard them planning it as he'd left. Annabel had asked if he was coming, and they'd all laughed and exchanged meaningful glances when he'd said he was busy. But why not? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"My friends are going to be there tonight," he said, with an attempt to sound casual. "So I thought… Only if you want to, obviously. We can go somewhere else. It's totally up to you. And it's not like I made plans with them or anything," he added hastily, in case she thought he was saying he'd rather be with his friends. "They go out all the time. I just thought… well, you haven't met any of them, and they've kind of started asking questions…"

She was frowning, and James hoped he wasn't trying to rush things. He knew how he felt about her, but she'd always been less sure. She'd given him a chance, and several weeks on, here they were. He thought it was going well, but they hadn't talked about it much.

"Look, forget it," he said. "It was a stupid idea. We'll just go somewhere, the two of us."

"No, it wasn't a stupid idea," she broke in, before he could suggest anything else. "I didn't realise your friends knew about me, that's all."

"Oh, well, yeah." James shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "I kind of live with them, and they know me a bit too well. I haven't told them much."

"Do they know I'm… not a witch?"

"Yes," he said. "Well, sort of. I mean, Louis knows who you are, and he's probably told the others by now, even though he said he wouldn't." He looked apologetically at her. Was she annoyed with him or not? "None of them are going to care about that."

She hesitated for a moment, obviously thinking. And then she smiled.

"Okay. I'd like to meet them."

"Really?" he asked doubtfully, searching her face for a lie.

Her smile grew. "Yeah. Really. It sounds like fun. If you're sure they won't mind."

"Oh, they won't mind," he assured her.

In fact, he thought, they were going to be delighted. Possibly to an embarrassing degree, especially Louis and Annabel, who had been asking the most questions. However, it was too late to back out. He'd just have to get it over with.

* * *

They materialised outside the pub, which was on a wizarding street, and James glanced at Hazel.

"You okay?"

She opened her eyes, which had been closed, and nodded. It wasn't the first time he'd taken her Side-Along, but her grip on his arm was very tight. She relaxed slightly, and reached up to push her hair out of her face. Apparition wasn't the smoothest ride.

"I'm fine. Is this it?"

She glanced up at a faded little sign above the door. People were coming and going, but it was dark, and nobody took much notice of them.

"Yep. Come on."

As they stepped through the door, her hand slipped from his arm down to his own hand, her fingers lacing through his. He glanced down at her again, a little surprised, though he wasn't sure why he should be – it wasn't the first time they'd held hands either. But the gesture was slightly different now, when they were about to meet his friends. It was an unambiguous statement. She met his gaze, and seemed to register his tiny hesitation. Her eyes flicked down to where their hands were joined and then back up to his face, a question in her expression. He knew what she was saying – _is this okay?_

And yes, he was self-conscious. Annoyingly so, given that he'd never been shy around girls, whether his friends were present or not. This was different though. Hazel was different. And he did want the others to know that. He smiled at her and squeezed her fingers gently, and she smiled back, reassured.

His friends were talking between themselves and hadn't noticed James and Hazel come in. Nor did they notice as the pair approached the table, until Fenella Belby looked up, her eyes landing on James. She blinked, and then her eyebrows shot up and she elbowed Adam Carson, who was sitting next to her and happened to be talking at the time. He broke off and turned to see what she was looking at. There was a moment of startled silence as the other two at the table also twisted round. Louis's mouth opened slightly, but Fenella, recovering fast, spoke first.

"Oh, hey, James," she said, raising her voice above the general noise of the pub. "I didn't know you were coming tonight." Her gaze slid to Hazel, and she smiled politely. "Sorry, I um, don't think we've met?"

It was typical of Fenella that after that first moment, she barely even sounded surprised. Her smile was bland enough, although there was an amused glint in it that James didn't think anyone would spot if they didn't know her very well.

"Yeah, er, hi. I'm Hazel."

Hazel glanced sideways at James briefly, but he was determined not to let this be awkward, despite the fact that Annie was staring at him as if she'd just been hit in the head with a bludger, and that the smile spreading across Louis's face made James begin to wish he'd never come.

"Well, we only just decided to come," James said, with forced breeziness. "So, er, Hazel, these are Adam, Annabel, Fenella and Louis."

"Nice to meet you," Fenella began, shooting a stern glance at the others.

"We've met before," Adam put in. Like Fenella, his face was carefully neutral.

Hazel blinked at him, then her face cleared. "Oh, yes. And you." She looked at Louis. "I remember you."

James had entirely forgotten that Adam and Louis had both been there the night he had first met Hazel himself. It wasn't a comfortable night to remember.

"You could have told us you were coming, Jamie!" Annabel burst out, her tone somewhere between reproachful and delighted. "And you also could have told us about _this_ ," she added, grinning as her eyes dropping to where their hands were still joined.

James glared at her. "Yeah well, _this_ is none of your business. And like I said, we only just decided." He looked at Hazel and spoke perfectly loud enough to be heard by everyone. "Sorry about them. If you want to change your mind about meeting them, we can leave now."

"No, don't go!" Annabel protested. "Ignore James, Hazel – we're lovely. Come and sit down. Squidge up, Louis," she commanded, shuffling along the bench.

"Yeah, come and sit down," Louis agreed, obediently moving closer to Adam. He smiled at Hazel, his blue eyes all innocence. "I would say we've heard loads about you, but unfortunately we've only heard the bits he told us without meaning to." His smile grew to a grin. "So now we want to know _all_ about you."

* * *

It was not going too badly, James reflected, some time later. In fact, it might be the haze of alcohol, but he didn't think it would be too far to say it was going great. He was having a fun night, and he thought Hazel was too. His friends could be annoying, but they were pretty awesome people really. And so was Hazel, so of course they would like her, and she would like them. He was several drinks in, Hazel was laughing at something Louis had said, squeezed in beside James with her body pressed against his and his arm round her waist, and the world seemed like a good place.

When he got up to get another round of drinks, Fenella caught him up at the bar.

"So," she said, picking up a couple of the glasses.

"What?" James busied himself collecting the rest – one in his hand and the others levitated on a tray – and didn't look at her.

"You really like her, don't you?"

He sighed, giving up the pretence. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes. But that isn't a bad thing, Jamie. She's lovely, and it seems like she likes you too. Why shouldn't you show it?"

He looked at her, and gave her a small smile. Fenella was right, as usual.

"No reason, I s'pose. Only she's already turned me down once."

"Well, she's not turning you down now. Stop being so scared of it."

"Hey, I'm not scared of it!" he protested. "We're here, aren't we?"

"Yes, you are." Her smile was wide and genuine. "And I'm glad you came."

* * *

He Apparated Hazel home at the end of the evening. He had had several too many drinks, and so had she, but he risked taking her to the end of her street, judging that there probably wouldn't be anyone around to notice them. They were lucky, and the streets were dark and empty.

Hazel turned towards him when they'd arrived and wrapped her arms round his waist.

"Thanks for taking me," she said, her voice very slightly slurred. "I had a good time. Your friends are fun."

"Yeah, they're not too bad," he agreed with a grin. "Most of the time."

Her face was shadowed and hard to make out, but he thought she was smiling, and he leaned down and found her lips with his. For a few moments they didn't speak.

"I had a good time too," he said as he pulled back. His hand came up and brushed her cheek. "I really like being with you. And I'm glad you liked them." He hoped she understood how glad he was – and why it was important. He wanted her to be a more permanent part of his life, but he didn't know how to say that, or even whether he should say it or if it was moving too fast. Fenella was right, and he shouldn't be scared of showing how he felt, but he hoped that what he'd said and done _did_ show it without him saying more.

She leaned in and rested her face against his chest, and he thought she had understood, although she didn't say anything for a few moments, and when she spoke it was to change the subject slightly.

"I think that was the first time I've really seen you doing magic."

He glanced down at her, surprised. "No, it's not. I turned that cup into a shoe to show you. And we've Apparated a whole load of times."

"No, I mean…" She paused, then went on. "It was the first time I've seen you do magic just without thinking. For normal stuff, like carrying drinks."

"Oh." He supposed she was right. It was so natural for him to use magic that he didn't really think about what he got his wand out for and what he didn't, especially now he'd got used to being able to do it out of school.

"I wish I could see you fly," she went on. "Louis was saying you're really good."

"Was he?" James had not heard that conversation, although he couldn't help being a little pleased. He knew he was good at flying - it was one thing he was confident of. But there were definitely more embarrassing things Louis could have been telling her, so he was grateful to his cousin for the accolade. "Well, you can," he added, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Really?" she said.

"Yeah. Why not? If you really want to. Not now, though," he added. "It's dark, and I'm not sober enough."

She giggled. "Have you ever flown when you were drunk?"

"Yes." He grinned. "But not when I was trying to impress anyone."

In the darkness he couldn't be sure, but he thought her eyebrows lifted.

"Oh? Will you be trying to impress me then?"

It was the alcohol combined with the fact that she couldn't see his face any more than he could see hers, but he laughed as he pressed his lips to the base of her throat.

"Of course I will. You know I will," he muttered against her.

He felt her breath catch, and she also laughed.

"Well, you won't have to try very hard. I've never seen anyone fly a broom."

He was slightly surprised at that, because Malfoy could fly a broom – pretty well, too. But he didn't really want to talk about Malfoy.

"Well, you can do more than watch," he told her instead, a thought growing in his mind. "You can have a go, if you want."

"Can I?" She sounded wondering. "How would that even work? I can't fly a broom!"

"No, but a decent broom can take two. We can do it this weekend, if you're up for it."

"I am," she said at once. "I definitely am. Tomorrow?"

He laughed. "If I'm not hungover, tomorrow it is."


	3. Flight

Sometimes Hazel felt that none of this could possibly be real. She couldn't really be waking up on a sunny Saturday in March, having breakfast with her parents while the radio played in the background and her dad quizzed her about driving theory, answering Anna's text about Geography homework, and knowing that in a couple of hours, she was going to fly on a broomstick.

Hazel had grown up knowing about the magical world, being friends with Scorpius. The fact of its existence had never seemed that strange, because at six she had still half-believed in magic anyway, and she had got so used to it that for the most part, she had stopped thinking about how weird it was. Whatever this was with James, though, was on a whole different level. It wasn't just her comfortable friendship with Scorpius, whom she had known forever. It wasn't just hearing about the magical world as if it was part of a book or film, from the distant safety of her own non-magical life. Last year, with the attack on a girl from Hazel's school, followed by her own involvement in a magical battle, had brought it all much closer, but even that had had a sense of unreality about it, especially looking back afterwards.

There was nothing unreal or distant about James Potter, though. Hazel had said she didn't want secrets; she'd said she wanted to see magic, to know all the things that were normal to him. And she had meant it. She loved magic; she always had. Did she love James? Her mind shied away from going that far. She liked him, though – she liked him a lot, and she didn't need to deny that to herself any longer. But getting her head round it all was exhausting.

"Any plans today?" her mum asked her as Hazel got up to put her bowl in the dishwasher.

"Not really," Hazel said, biting back a smile as she thought of what she was really planning for today. "I'm going out to meet some of the others."

She always felt guilty for the small lies. There had been a lot of them over the years. Lies about Scorpius's family and his school, and now about James. How would that work if she and James stayed together? It seemed stupid to start thinking of the future when they'd only really been going out for a few weeks. She wasn't even eighteen yet, and he was only a year older. Anything could happen, and probably would. Hazel liked to think of herself as a realist more than a romantic. But she couldn't help it, because it was so complicated, too complicated even to imagine. She couldn't build a life around lies.

"Same ones you were out last night with?" her mum pressed.

"Um, yeah." Hazel busied herself pretending to rearrange the dishes already in the machine, so she didn't have to look at them.

Behind her, there was a short pause.

"You were pretty late back," her dad commented, and Hazel knew immediately that they'd been waiting to say something.

She straightened up and turned to face them.

"It was only just after midnight," she said.

Her parents exchanged glances.

"You know, we don't put too tight a rein on you, Hazel," her mum said. "You're nearly eighteen, and you've got common sense. But we have asked you to be in by twelve."

Hazel sighed. Part of her was irritated, and wanted to argue that she had only been about fifteen minutes late. But the other part of her knew that they were right; they _did_ let her go out and do her own thing, so long as it was at the weekends, and they didn't ask too many questions either. And she appreciated their trust in her.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was celebrating getting those conditional offers, that's all."

"Drinking?" her dad asked.

She didn't think the question was as casual as it sounded.

"A bit," she admitted. "But it wasn't, you know, out of control or anything."

They looked at each other again.

"Well, please just look after yourself, Hazel," her mum said at last. "And try to be in on time, or we start to worry. We can't stop you drinking alcohol, we know that. And we don't want to stop you having fun. We just want you to be safe."

"I _was_ safe!" Hazel's irritation began to get the better of her.

"Was it Anna and the others you were out with?" her mum went on.

Hazel hesitated. It would be a simple lie, but also one that could easily get found out. And Mum sounded as if she might have already half-guessed the answer.

"Anna wasn't there," she said at last. "I think she was with Matt. It was just a bunch of other friends," she added, hoping to pre-empt the next question. "Not anyone you really know."

They didn't push her any further, just repeated the requests for her to be in on time and to keep herself safe. But Hazel still felt a little guilty as she left the house.

She tried to push the worries – both about her parents and the nature of her relationship with James – out of her head on her way down the road. She needed to stop overthinking things. The future could take care of itself; for now, all that really mattered was that she like being with James and spending time with him. She had had a genuinely good night the night before, and his friends had been great. But now, in the cold light of day – and sobriety – she couldn't help remembering a lot of the reasons she had been unsure about being with James in the first place.

Because there was no getting away from the fact that she couldn't do magic. And hanging around in a whole group of witches and wizards just made her aware of that all the time. Compared to them, she felt as if she was lacking something, that she was incompetent and helpless, feelings that Hazel disliked.

And a nagging part of her mind that she tried to ignore asked why _she_ should have to live a lie, when he did not. His friends knew what she was, but hers could never know that he was a wizard. Every time she entered his world, she would have to lie about it to her family. And yet, so far, going into his world was all they had done. Was this what it was always going to be like? Sneaking off to live her secret second life? She wasn't sure whether she could do it.

But he was waiting for her in the usual place, and greeted her with cheerful brightness, as if he hadn't had a drop of alcohol the night before.

"Still up for flying even now you're sober?" he asked with a grin.

"Still up for taking me, now that you are?" he retorted. She couldn't help responding to his high spirits, her more gloomy thoughts subsumed in the excitement that this _was_ real, that flying on a broom really was possible.

In reply, he simply held his hand out, and she took it.

They left the town behind as he Apparated them to a spot well away from any buildings. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure where they were; it wasn't a place she recognised. They were at the edge of a grassy field, sheltered on two sides by lines of trees. However, he obviously knew exactly where he'd brought her, down to the very spot, because he immediately bent and pulled a broomstick out of the long grass at the edge of the field. Hazel had never seen anyone fly before, but she had seen numerous pictures of magical brooms. It struck her anew, however, how different they were from what you'd expect. Hardly the rough set of twigs tied onto a bit of wood that you associated with witches' brooms. It was sleek and polished, the twigs perfectly shaped and tapered, with smooth curves for handholds. It was obviously a very carefully designed piece of kit, and she wondered how much something like that cost.

"How far have we come?" she asked.

"Oh, er… We're in Devon," he told her.

"Devon?" To the best of her knowledge, Hazel had never even been to Devon before. Apparition was something else it was hard to get her head round properly; they'd travelled about three hundred miles in approximately three seconds.

"Yeah. It's the area I know best, in terms of good flying spots where nobody'll see us. I grew up not that far away."

She looked around with a little more interest. There was nothing to be seen except countryside.

"Really? How far away?"

"Three, four miles," he replied. "But it was in a town, so we had to come out here to fly."

"And what happens if a farmer appears in his tractor?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Well, if you're okay with it, I'll put a Disillusionment Charm on us."

"A what?" Hazel blinked at him, the term entirely unfamiliar.

"A Disillusionment Charm. It basically means we'll blend in with whatever's behind us. Are you good with that?"

"I… suppose so." She still didn't really understand what was going to happen, but it couldn't be more dramatic than flying was going to be anyway.

"Come on, then."

James grinned and slung one leg over the broom he carried, then held out his hand to her again, and Hazel, feeling as though she was in a surreal dream, allowed him to help her climb on in front of him.

She was not in a dream. He let go of the broom entirely as she got on, one of his hands steadying her and the other pulling his wand out. And the broom stayed in mid-air, just like the tray of drinks had the night before, Hazel gripped the handle very tightly, even though they were not yet moving.

"I'm going to cast the charm now," he said from behind her.

He muttered something, and she felt a cold sensation trickle down her back. It was the first time she'd ever had magic performed on her, unless she counted the thing she was fairly sure had been a magic potion, which she had been given after being rescued from the avalanche the previous year. It was disconcerting. And it reminded her, yet again, of all the things he could do that she could not. The power he had, which he could even use on her if he chose to. And it wasn't that she didn't trust him. It wasn't that she thought he _would_ use it. After all, she had told him he could use that spell. It was just that he _could_.

She glanced down, and realised with a shock that she could no longer see her hands. Or rather, she could see them, but only if she looked hard at exactly where she knew they were. Otherwise, it was as if she was looking straight through both her body and the broom handle at the grass beneath her feet. She looked over her shoulder, and the shape of James was only just visible against the sky. Hazel swallowed, trying not to let the weirdness of it all overwhelm her.

And then they were in the air, and she stopped thinking about Disillusionment Charms or about the other spells James might be capable of casting.

Flying was nothing like she'd expected it to be. It didn't feel like sitting on a wobbly branch suspended in midair. The broom was steady, and moved easily. She could feel the slight movements and the flexes in James's muscles as he shifted, but those were the only signs that he was steering. The broom just seemed to do what he wanted it to.

Slowly, she relaxed. He flew low across the field towards some trees at the far side, and Hazel leaned back into him. She was glad of his arm round her waist, but she thought she'd be safe even without it. The wind blew her hair back from her face, and she started to enjoy the sensation. She was flying. Actually flying on a broom, and the realisation made her laugh out loud.

"This is so weird!" she said.

"Good weird or bad weird? You want to land?" His voice came from near her ear.

"No!" she said, grinning over her shoulder at him, although he probably couldn't make out her facial expressions. "It's great!"

He laughed. "Want to go a bit higher then?"

Hazel looked down at the ground, which already seemed quite far away, and swallowed.

"Yes, okay," she said. It was safe. Nothing could happen. He did this all the time.

They flew higher, and the ground dropped away. They were higher than the trees now, the countryside spreading out below them. She could see some houses away the fields – the edge of the town he'd mentioned, maybe – and beyond them

"Is that the town where you used to live?" she called above the wind whistling in her ears.

"Yeah, that's Barnstaple," he answered. "You can almost see my parents' house."

He swung away from the houses slightly, and away on the horizon she saw the gleam of the sea. They flew towards it, and as she relaxed further, he picked up speed. The broom swooped in a huge circle. Every now and again, James dipped it and swung round trees or skimmed close to the top of a rise, not for any reason other than the fun of it, as far as Hazel could tell. And it _was_ fun. James flew easily and expertly, and by the time they finally landed again, in the same field from which they had started, Hazel was windswept and laughing.

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," he announced as they dismounted, and they both slid into full vision again.

He was also somewhat windswept, his brown hair tousled, and his eyes were glowing with the pleasure of flight. Hazel looked at him, slightly wondering. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him quite like this. She'd seen him happy and laughing and having fun, but this seemed like something a little different. It was as if flight was some sort of natural state for him, something normal to be reverted to, and it occurred to Hazel that she was perhaps closer than she'd ever been to the real James, underneath all the jokes and bravado.

"What'd you think?" he asked eagerly.

"It was fun." She smiled at him, as much at his enthusiasm as anything. "Thanks for taking me." She paused for a moment before going on. "I haven't got anything to compare you with, but you're good at flying. Really good, I think."

"Well." He seemed to be trying and failing to look modest. "I'm not too bad, I suppose. I'd be worried if I was terrible; I mean, I _was_ team captain. But I'm glad you liked it."

"But you didn't want to do it professionally," Hazel said slowly, slightly puzzled as she remembered things he had told her way back in the summer. He could have pursued a professional Quidditch career. His mum, a professional herself, had wanted to get him trials for teams, but instead he had chosen to take some crappy assistant job at the Ministry, which seemed basically like a poorly paid internship to Hazel, and which she knew for a fact that he hated. And given how much he obviously loved flying – and she knew he loved Quidditch too – that made no sense.

James shrugged, his elation fading a little as he turned away, not meeting her eyes.

"No. Well, it wasn't that I didn't want to. It's… well, it's complicated. It doesn't matter."

Hazel looked at him. She didn't want to push it if he didn't want to talk about it, and she didn't want to ruin his mood either, but she couldn't understand it, and she thought she wanted to.

"Doesn't it?" she asked.

He sighed. "It's not exactly a guaranteed career. I might not have got anywhere."

"So you didn't try?" she pressed gently. That didn't seem like James.

"Well, even if I had got somewhere, it wouldn't have been because of me," he said, speaking somewhat quickly and still not looking fully at her. "Its… it's hard to explain because you don't live in our world. But my parents are… kind of famous."

"Yes, I know." Hazel frowned. "I knew that before I ever met you; Scorpius told me. But what's that got to do with it?"

"It's hard to explain," he repeated. "But my dad – he's this big hero. And Mum's pretty much one as well, and they're both really good at flying too. Especially Mum – she played professionally before she retired, and now she edits the sports section of our biggest newspaper. I mean, everyone knows who she is in the Quidditch world, and she's got a lot of influence. So yeah, they'd had given me a trial, maybe even a place on a team, but it would have been because I was Ginny Potter's son, not because of _me_. And I've been living with that my whole life – we all have. And I kind of hate it," he finished quietly. "I just want to, you know, do my own thing."

Hazel was silent for a moment, feeling the beginnings of understanding. She couldn't really know how he felt, because she'd never experienced anything like that. She was pretty privileged in lots of ways, and her parents had given her every opportunity they could, but they were normal opportunities. They were ordinary people with ordinary lives and ordinary jobs. But she began to see James's difficulty, even if she did think it was probably mostly in his head.

"Sorry," James went on after a pause. "I didn't mean to get into all that. Forget it."

"Don't be sorry," she said. "It's fine." She reached for his hand and threaded her fingers through his. "I get it – that must be a horrible way to feel, like everyone's judging you based on what they know about your parents. And you don't have to say sorry. I'm your girlfriend, James. You're allowed to talk to me about stuff."

It was, she realised, the first time she'd actually called herself that. The first time she'd put any sort of label on what they were. And he hadn't tried to either. From the expression on his face, he'd also realised what she'd said. He looked slightly startled, then smiled, squeezing her fingers.

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I am. I just don't like talking about that stuff because I feel like I'm whining. I don't always mind getting perks because Mum and Dad are famous. But Quidditch is too important, you know? I can't just ride on the back of Mum getting me a trial. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does," she told him. "And I understand how you feel. I'm not totally sure it's worth giving up a career you'd love, though, is it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you're right. Mum would agree with you – not that I've told her any of that, but she doesn't understand why I'm at the Ministry at all. Nor does Dad, really, though he's trying to be supportive. They both know I hate it. But I'd hate having a Quidditch career I don't deserve too. And maybe that's stupid, but I can't help how I feel."

Hazel leaned into him, her arms going round him. "Well, maybe you should talk to them about it?" she suggested. "But for what it's worth – which isn't much, since I can't even fly a broom – I don't think you wouldn't deserve it. Not from what I just saw, and not from what I've heard about your Quidditch either."

She let the subject drop after that, since he clearly didn't want to dwell on it. She thought, though, that she'd got more of an insight into some of the things that lay under James's surface in that hour than she'd had in all the months previously. And although she was worried by the fact that he was clearly not following the path he wanted to be on, she was glad he'd let her in to that degree. She could begin to see, too, why he might have acted like such a dick at times in the past. It was something that had always puzzled her – how she could see such a _nice_ side to him, while knowing that he'd been the exact opposite of nice to Scorpius on so many occasions. It still did puzzle her a bit. But she thought that a lot of the answers about James might lie in the amount of pressure he'd obviously been under his entire life. It wasn't an excuse for any of the things he'd done, and she still wasn't sure how it all fitted together, but she was pretty sure it did, somehow.

* * *

As they parted that afternoon, Hazel remembered something else she had meant to tell him.

"Oh!" She turned towards him as they stopped on the corner of her street, after he'd Apparated them back. "I was going to tell you." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party. My party, actually. For my birthday."

He looked at her, his expression surprised.

"Oh, when's your birthday?"

"In the Easter holidays. And I'll be eighteen, which is kind of a big deal for us. It's like seventeen for you. I know it might be weird for you, because it's a Muggle party and everything." She looked steadily at him. "But I'd really like it if you wanted to come."

For a moment, he just looked startled. Then he grinned.

"Hey, of course I'll come! I didn't realise your birthday was coming up. And I promise I'll behave like the perfect Muggle." A thoughtful look came over his face. "Just so I know, though. I assume your friends'll all be there, and maybe your family. So am I coming as a random friend, or as your boyfriend?"

She had already thought about this, and had her answer ready.

"I want them to know we're going out. I mean, my friend Anna already knows about you anyway. Not that you're a wizard, obviously, but most other things about you. I've told her I'm inviting you." She hesitated, wondering how – or even whether – to bring up the next part. "Like you said, though, all my friends'll be there. At least, they're all invited. And that includes Scorpius."

"Oh." James didn't look thrilled, but he pulled himself together. "Well, yeah, I suppose it would. Don't worry – I've promised I won't start anything with him, so I won't."

And with that, Hazel supposed she had to be satisfied.


	4. Family Disagreements

**A/N: A long wait again (thank you if you're still with me), but eventually here's the next chapter of this. Also big thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapters! Happy New Year, and hope everyone had good holidays!**

* * *

James strolled into his aunt and uncle's kitchen on the first day of the Easter holidays, having casually flooed into the living room, uninvited. His uncle and aunt were out, which he had known before coming, but his cousin was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich while engrossed in a book, dressed only in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, although it was after midday. James crossed the room and, with a swift motion of his wand, upended his cousin's chair.

Hugo Weasley shrieked in an extremely undignified way as he and his sandwich landed with a loud crash on the floor.

"Ow! Merlin!" He glared up at James. "What the fuck? Where did you come from?"

James leant against the edge of the table, his wand still in his hand.

"Okay, Hugo," he said conversationally. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hex you into the middle of next week."

Hugo looked thoroughly alarmed.

"What are you on about? Why are you hexing me?" he protested, scrambling backwards.

"You know why, you little tosser." James dropped the casual act, and scowled heavily at Hugo. "I told you to keep your nose out, and then you go and write stupid letters about me dying. I mean, seriously, _influenza_?"

"Oh!" Realisation dawned in Hugo's eyes as he stopped moving back. " _Ohh!_ That's what this is about! Wait, how do you even know about it? Did it _work?"_ he demanded delightedly.

James glowered at him. "Not the point. It was none of your fucking business, and you made me look like a complete idiot. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Before Hugo could answer, an amused voice spoke from the doorway.

"What on earth's going on?"

James turned his head to find Rose standing watching them, her eyebrows so high they were almost under her fringe.

"Nothing," he started to say, but he got no further.

"I set him up with the girl he fancies, and now he's angry," Hugo broke in, sounding deeply injured.

" _What_?" Rose still looked confused, but she was obviously enjoying the situation a great deal, judging by the grin on her face.

"That is _not_ what happened!" James growled. "You wrote her a letter out of bloody nowhere, telling her I was dying of flu!"

Rose shrieked with laughter. "Hugo, did you actually do that? Please tell me you did, because that's the best thing I've heard all year!"

"I was trying to help," Hugo said sulkily, from his position on the floor. "You obviously wanted to talk to her, and she'd dumped you. And now you've been talking to her – you must have been!"

"Why the hell didn't I know about any of this?" Rose demanded. She advanced into the room, still grinning. "Hugo, you're the world's biggest idiot, but I kind of love you for this. Who is she anyway? I didn't know you'd been dumped, Jamie. Come to think of it, I didn't know you were going out with anyone. Although I noticed you didn't deny that you fancied her. And," she added, looking thoughtful, "that does explain something Louis said the other day."

"Louis needs to learn to keep his mouth shut," James said.

However annoyed he was with Hugo, he would very much have rather Rose hadn't heard anything about it. Now she had, there was no way she'd let it go.

"So it's true?" Rose dropped into a kitchen chair and surveyed them both. "Come on, Jamie. You've got to spill the beans now."

"Her name's Hazel." Hugo picked himself up off the floor and gazed at the remains of his food. "James, you're a wanker. That was a good sandwich."

"Shut up, Hugo," James said. "Fuck's sake. It's none of anyone's business."

"Hazel," Rose repeated thoughtfully. "Wait. _Wait_. Isn't that the girl you got stuck under the avalanche with last year? The one who saved your life? Are you still seeing her?"

"Merlin!" James folded his arms and scowled at her, seething. Although he couldn't be surprised. With a family as large and close as theirs, they were always in each other's business. It was just that he was usually the one interfering, and he wasn't sure what to do with this role reversal.

But then again, just last week, when she'd invited him to her birthday party, Hazel had said she wanted him to come as her boyfriend. That she wanted her friends to know who he was and what was going on between them. So if they were making it public, there was no reason for his family not to know either, except for the fact that his family were capable of being very embarrassing, which was something he was probably going to have to just suck up and deal with.

"Okay, fine," he said, after a small pause, while Rose simply looked at him and waited. "Yes, I am. _Not_ thanks to anything Hugo did," he added.

"You say that," Hugo put in. "But when you were talking about it back at Christmas, you said you hadn't seen her for months and you didn't know how to get her to talk to you. And then I wrote to her, and now you're going out." He grinned, having clearly cheered up again. "Did she believe it?"

"Of course she didn't believe it," James snapped. "She's not an idiot! Why would I be dying of flu?"

"Influenza, not flu," Hugo corrected him.

"They're the same thing, you twat," Rose said, and then went on before anyone could side-track her again. "Wow, James. You've got yourself in a bit deep there, haven't you? She's a Muggle. And isn't she some friend of Malfoy's?"

Of course Rose remembered the name, and of course she'd put two and two together – Rose always did. James tried very hard not to show his irritation with her, because that would only make her worse, but he didn't think he was doing a very good job.

"Why would it be a problem that she's a Muggle?" he demanded, ignoring the mention of Malfoy. "Wouldn't have expected you to be prejudiced, Rosie."

"I'm not prejudiced." Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm thinking practicalities here. How could she live in our world? And how would you ever live in the Muggle world?"

"Bloody hell, we've only been going out a few weeks. Bit early to think about where we're going to live." James was aware, in some back part of his mind, that part of the reason he was so annoyed by this line of questioning was that he _had_ thought about it – maybe not in terms of where they'd live, he wasn't thinking quite that far ahead, but he had wondered what would happen when she went off to university. But he didn't need someone like Rose, who always thought she knew best, to start pointing out difficulties when all he wanted to do was be with Hazel.

"Anyway," he went on. "Why shouldn't I be able to live in the Muggle world, part of the time at least? Hazel knows I'm a wizard – it's not an issue. I'm going to her birthday next week, and they'll all be Muggles. I just won't do any magic."

"Or talk about any magic, or anything to do with magic. What happens when they start talking about television or aeroplanes or their exams, or asking you about your job? You've never taken Muggle Studies, and the only contact you've had with the Muggle world has been visiting your dad's cousin once a year, and using your homemade Muggle ID to drink in their bars when you were underage. There's no way you'll be able to fake it."

"Look, I'm pretty sure I can handle it, Rose," James snapped. "I've been hanging out Hazel since January - and all last summer. And pretending to be a Muggle isn't exactly Advanced Potions. I'll manage."

"You never took Advanced Potions either," Rose remarked.

"So what?" James glared at her, thoroughly exasperated. "It's just a saying!"

"Well, I took Advanced Potions. And I'm telling you, I'd rather that than pretend to be a Muggle in a crowd of actual Muggles all wanting to get to know me. But fine, you do what you want. Just don't blame me when you get hit with a lawsuit for breaking the Statute."

* * *

Later, he repeated the conversation to Hazel (missing out the bit about dropping Hugo on the floor, and also most of the argument with Rose). He had brought her to the Three Broomsticks - safe and quiet enough, now that Hogwarts was on holiday - and they were lounging in a booth at the back, mostly hidden from the rest of the pub, his arm around Hazel's waist.

"So now that that Hugo, Louis, _and_ Rose know," he finished resignedly, "you can pretty much guarantee the rest of my family are going to know soon too. Not that that's a bad thing," he added. "They're just a bit full on."

They would want to make a big fuss over Hazel, he knew they would, and he'd really rather keep her for himself. He couldn't even imagine what Grandad Weasley would be like when he realised that James was going out with an actual Muggle.

"Well, I don't mind," Hazel said. "I'd like to meet more of them some time. I met your sister that time, but not properly."

"Yeah, well." He leaned over and kissed her. "I'm not sure I want you to meet them. They'll only be embarrassing."

She laughed. "I bet they won't be." She looked up at him, a little more seriously, her face very close to his. "Are you really going to be okay, coming to the party?"

He shrugged, slightly surprised by the question. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? It's your birthday – I want to come." He grinned. "And I promise I'll be on my best behaviour."

She frowned. "I meant about pretending not to be a wizard. D'you want me to, you know, talk you through any stuff or anything? You're going to have to have a story for if people ask you about your job or anything."

James laughed. "Nah, I'll be fine," he said, with considerably more good humour than he had had with Rose. "I'll make something up. By the way," he went on. "There's a bunch of us going to the Leaky Cauldron at the weekend. That's the pub in Diagon Alley. They want to know if you're coming. And I mean, we're not really keeping this secret any more, are we? So d'you want to come?"

He smiled expectantly at her. She had wanted to see Diagon Alley for ages, but they'd avoided it because of all the people he knew there. As he'd said, though, secrecy was a bit redundant now that so many people knew anyway. He'd expected her to be delighted with the idea, but she was still frowning slightly.

"Yes, okay," she said slowly.

James also frowned. "Are you okay? You don't have to come, if you don't want to?"

"No, I'm fine." She shook her head, shaking the frown away, and smiled at him. "I'd like to come."

It still wasn't quite the enthusiastic reception he'd thought it would be. Had he somehow said something to upset her? But she was smiling again, and asking whether butterbeer was classed as an alcoholic drink, and the moment had passed. But James was left with a slightly uneasy feeling, as if something had happened without him being aware of it, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.


	5. Hurdles

**A/N: Featuring a brief cameo by a character most of you probably recognise, because I can't resist writing her.**

Hazel strolled up the path to the front door of a large detached house. It was some weeks since she had been here, and quite a lot had happened in the meantime. There was a lot to be said, although she wasn't sure how much of it she would be able to talk about. She sighed as she rang the doorbell, wishing it wasn't so bloody complicated.

There was a sound of hurrying feet on the other side of the door, and it was flung open by a small, dark-haired thirteen-year-old, who grinned when she saw Hazel on the doorstep.

"Hazel! Hi!" She threw her arms round Hazel in a brief, hard hug, then pulled away again.

"Hey, Issie!" Hazel hugged her back. "How are you?"

"Oh, fine. Come in." Iseult Malfoy stepped back from the door to let her in, and turned to call up the stairs behind her. "Hey, Scorp! Hazel's here!"

"How're things at Hogwarts?" Hazel asked, as she stepped inside. "How's your drama club going?"

"Pretty good!" Iseult led the way into the living room. "Although Professor Clearwater says one play a year is plenty, so we're not really doing much, except planning a bit for the next one. We still hang around together and stuff though. Even Eris Montague's not so mean any more, at least not to me. And next year Lucy and Tilly have decided we're going to do a play called _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ Have you heard of it?"

Hazel laughed, following Iseult into the room. "Yeah, I've heard of it. Are you in it?"

"No, I'm the Stage Manager." Iseult grinned, her eyes lighting up. "Hey, Lucy wants to get permission to invite our parents too, so maybe you could come and watch! They'd have to let Muggles in if our mums and dads came – Jake's a Muggleborn, and so are some of the others."

A new voice spoke. "Don't worry. She'll never get permission for that, so you don't have to make up an excuse."

Hazel swung round to find Scorpius standing in the doorway behind her.

"Hey, Scorp!" she said, crossing to hug him too. "Hey, don't be mean! I'd come if I could. I hope you're going!"

"Wouldn't miss it." Scorpius laughed, sending a teasing glance across at Issie. "The last one was a good laugh."

Iseult pulled a face at her brother. "Actually, everyone said it was really good, even Professor Clearwater." She made for the door. "Anyway, I'm going to Alice's - Jake's coming and we're going to practise Quidditch. See you later, Hazel!"

Hazel watched Iseult waltz away and shook her head, smiling. "I can't believe how much she's grown up in the last year," she said.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Scorpius laughed. "Wait until you see Caelum, though – he's running all over the place now, and talking too. Mum's got him out somewhere, but you might see them if you're here when they get back." He turned and wandered over to an armchair. "So, what's going on with you?" he asked, dropping into it.

Hazel followed him, and sat down in the chair beside his. She sighed. "Well, quite a lot, but I'm not sure how much you're going to want to hear about."

He looked wary. "Well, you've been telling me bits and pieces. I take it it's to do with James Potter?"

"Yeah." She watched him carefully. "I've invited him to my birthday."

Scorpius looked resigned. "Well, I sort of thought you might. You guys are properly going out now, then?"

Hazel fiddled with the braid on the arm of her chair. She couldn't really go with the vague, noncommittal answers she'd given him before any more. They'd be lies now, which wasn't fair on him or on James.

"Yeah, we are. And he's promised he won't start anything."

"Good of him," Scorpius muttered, then sighed and shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm not going to start having a go at him either." He looked at her. "So it's going pretty well then?"

"You actually want to know how it's going?" she asked sceptically.

"I don't know. Yes. It's important to you, so it's important to me. If you want to talk about it to me. I mean, just a general idea's fine," he added hastily. "I don't need, you know, details."

Hazel scanned his face, looking for signs that he didn't really mean what he said. If he was only saying it to be nice, then he was hiding that very well. She knew he didn't like her being with James, but he did seem genuinely interested.

And she did want to talk about it, desperately. It wasn't normally the kind of thing she talked to Scorpius about, especially when it concerned a boy he couldn't stand. She'd usually have talked to Anna when it came to relationship problems. But she couldn't, because although Anna knew about James, all the complications were connected to James being a wizard. She couldn't tell Anna that, which was part of the problem in itself. And she just wanted someone to talk to.

"Well, honestly, I don't know," she said after a small pause. "I think I'm being stupid. I mean, it _is_ going well, most of the time. Really well. I like him, and I like being with him."

She hesitated, wondering whether she was giving him more details than he wanted, but he only raised his eyebrows.

"But?"

Hazel sighed. "This is where I'm being stupid. There isn't any 'but', not really. I think I'm just overthinking things, you know? Whenever I'm with him, I have loads of fun. But…" She took a deep breath. "But I can't get past the fact that he's a wizard and I'm not."

Scorpius frowned slightly as he looked at her.

"I'm a wizard too," he pointed out. "That's never been a problem. Why is it one with him?"

"You're different. And not just because you're my best friend, not my boyfriend." She broke off abruptly, but he didn't react to this description of James, so she went on. "I've known you most of my life. We know everything about each other. But with James, I'm trying to get to know him, and mostly, it's been great. He's shown me so much about the magical world and his life and stuff. But the thing is, that's all we've done. We spend all our time going to places he knows. And I can't complain – I'm _not_ complaining about that. I told him I wanted to see his world, and I _did_. I still do.

"But it… it's like he doesn't really care about mine. Like he doesn't even think about trying to learn about where _I_ come from. When I asked him if he wanted me to tell him some stuff, so he'd be able to talk to my friends at my birthday, he treated it like he didn't need to know any of it. Just brushed it off." She sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to unload all that on you as soon as I saw you. But I can't talk to anyone else about it. And that's part of the issue too. I feel like I'm keeping secrets all the time. I know I'm overreacting to small stuff, I just…" She trailed off, not knowing how to explain how she felt any further.

For a moment, Scorpius didn't say anything, and Hazel began to wish she hadn't told him any of it. He couldn't possibly be expected to understand; it was hard enough for him that she was going out with James at all, let alone having to hear about all the difficulties. She was being selfish. He didn't look at her either, just frowned at the floor for a few seconds. He finally spoke, just as she opened her mouth to apologise again.

"I don't think you're overreacting," he said, looking up at her. "I mean, okay, it might seem like it's small stuff, but he's still being a self-obsessed dick. Which is nothing exactly new…"

"Scorpius," she interrupted him with a warning in her voice, annoyance rising up in her. She hadn't told him all that just for him to start slagging James off.

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up. "I won't go on about it. You know I don't like him, any more than he likes me, but you keep telling me he's a decent person underneath, and Lily says the same. So I suppose I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. But whatever, he's still not exactly thinking much about your feelings, is he? Have you tried to talk to him?"

Hazel blinked at him. She still felt annoyed, but she wasn't sure if her annoyance was justified. It was mostly because he was _right_ , she thought, trying to think reasonably. He was being more sensible about it than she was. But she didn't _want_ him to be right about James. James wasn't the person Scorpius thought he was. The guy she'd been getting to know wasn't just a pretence. Was he?

"No," she said at last. "I haven't. He doesn't even know anything's wrong."

"I'm not going to bring up the self-obsessed thing again." Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "But if he hasn't noticed, maybe you should make him notice? Actually try to tell him some of this stuff?"

Hazel sighed. It wasn't that she hadn't thought of that. But it was yet another thing that was hard to explain.

"I don't want to," she said slowly, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe that's stupid, but all I want is for him to show an actual interest in my life and my world. I don't want to have to _ask_ him to take an interest! I mean, if… if he really doesn't want to know, I don't even know what I'm doing with him!" She broke off and took a deep breath, because there was a prickling behind her eyes and God, she mustn't start crying over it.

Scorpius looked at her for a few moments. His expression was hard to read.

"I can't tell you what to do," he said at last, sounding as if he was carefully finding the right words. "I don't really have the answers. But I can see why you feel like that."

"Can you?" She looked hopefully at him. "I'm not just being overdramatic?"

He shrugged. "Well, the only bit I'd say you're being overdramatic about is not talking to him about it. I get why you don't want to," he added, before she could say anything. "I honestly do. But not talking about stuff doesn't get you anywhere. Trust me, my family does plenty of not talking about things."

Again, everything he was saying sounded very reasonable. He had a point. But it still didn't change the way she felt. It had been growing on her for a while. Every time they'd been anywhere in the normal world – and they'd only done it a couple of times – James hadn't had a clue what to do. And he didn't seem as if he wanted to learn – he just wanted to bring her into his world, which was fine except that she had an entire life in her own, a life he knew very little about. Then when she'd offered to teach him, the other night in the pub, he'd just brushed her off and started talking about more plans to go to a wizarding place, and that had _hurt._ And he hadn't even seemed to notice that she was annoyed.

"Well, I don't know," she said at last, and it was the truth. She had no idea what to do about any of it. She made an effort to smile. "Sorry. I haven't seen you since Christmas, and all I'm doing is moaning. Let's talk about something else. What's going on with you?"

It was an abrupt change of subject, and for a moment he went on looking thoughtfully at her, but then he shrugged.

"Not a lot new. Stuff's settled down a bit at Hogwarts. They never did expel Searle Nott, so I still have to see him, but I think he got enough of a scare that he hasn't been saying much. So now it's just NEWTs. Nobody's really thinking about much else, to be honest."

"Tell me about it," Hazel said, grateful to him for letting himself be sidetracked. "A Levels are the same. Have you decided what you're going to next year yet?"

"Not really." Scorpius sighed. "Dad keeps going on at me. Although he's not as bad as my grandfather was at Christmas. I think he still has the idea I ought to be something important. I'd like to get into magical design - you know, coming up with new magical objects. But useful ones, not stupid junk. What about you - how are the university applications going?"

"Oh - I got accepted into the ones I applied for!" Hazel said, then added guiltily: "I forgot I hadn't told you." She had told James, but only because she had happened to see him that night anyway. It wasn't anything to feel bad about, she told herself.

"Oh, that's great - well done! Have you picked one then?"

She nodded. "I put UCL - that's University College London - as my first choice. So as long as I get my predicted grades, I'll be in!"

"London?" Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "Anything to do with the fact that Potter's living there?"

She could feel her cheeks warming up, and she scowled at him. "No. It's one of the best universities in the country, and it was always one of my top choices! But okay," she admitted, "it would be nice to be able to go and see him without him having to come and pick me up. That's what I mean when I say I can't ever forget that he can do magic and I can't. It makes me feel like a kid."

They were assuming, she realised, that she and James would still be together in September. The idea made her feel slightly breathless, and not in an excited, romantic way. It wasn't that she didn't want to be still with him. It was just that the thought of juggling him and university was terrifying. She'd literally be living a double life, and she wasn't sure how much time university would leave her to do that.

That, though, was nearly six months into the future. There were plenty of hurdles to get over before then, and her birthday seemed likely to throw up a whole load of them.

"Listen, Scorp," she said, just as they were parting later that day. "Can I ask you a massive favour?"

He looked surprised. "Um, yeah, okay?"

She took a deep breath. "Look, I know you don't like James. But I... I don't know how he's going to manage at my party. He hardly knows anything about the normal world, and you do. I'm not saying you have to, you know, hang around with him the whole evening - I know you'd both hate that. But just, can you help me cover for him? Like if you hear someone ask him a question he can't answer. Just... just help him out if you get a chance?"

She paused and waited anxiously, watching Scorpius's face. It was asking a lot of him. He'd probably want to stay as far away from James as possible. But she needed him.

As she'd expected, he looked very unenthusiastic.

"Why the hell can't he just sit down and actually learn something about the Muggle world? And then he wouldn't need babysitting," he said.

"Please don't be like that, Scorp."

He sighed. "Don't worry. I'll do it if I can."

* * *

The first hurdle had to be faced the night before her birthday. The party was taking place in the back room of a restaurant and bar in town, which her parents had hired for the purpose. They had promised to stay mostly in the background, but they would be there supervising.

And they were going to notice James. Hazel had considered springing it on them at the beginning of the party, when there would be a lot going on and they might not take as much notice. But then she had thought if she told them something about him beforehand, they might not ask James himself so many questions.

"So, Mum," she said, sliding onto the sofa beside her mum, the evening before her birthday.

Her mum looked up from the book she was reading.

"What's the matter, love?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about something. You know the party? Well, I, um, I've invited someone."

"Well, so I should hope." Her dad spoke from the kitchen half of their open plan room, where he was washing up. "It would be a shame if we'd hired that place and you'd forgotten to give the invites out."

Hazel sighed. If only James was easy to explain, this wouldn't be so bad.

"I take it you mean someone we don't know about," her mum said gently.

"Yes. A guy."

"Yes, well, we did wonder." Her mum glanced over the back of the sofa at her dad, then back at Hazel. "Staying out late, not telling us who you were out with. And you've been out a lot lately."

Hazel bit her lip. "Sorry I didn't tell you before." She should have known her parents would guess. They knew her well, after all.

"You don't need to say sorry." Her dad strolled over to them, drying his hands on a cloth. "Well, except for staying out too late, but we've already been over that. You're eighteen tomorrow, and off to university next year. We're not upset with you. But who is he? Someone from school?"

"No." Hazel took a deep breath. "He's actually from Scorpius's school."

"Oh." Her mum raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realise you'd met any of Scorpius's friends."

"Oh, yeah, a few of them," Hazel said vaguely. It wasn't quite a lie. She _would_ have met his friends last year, if they hadn't all been attacked first. And she had met James's sister briefly, who was sort of friends with Scorpius.

"So what's his name? Does he live near here?" her dad asked.

"His name's James. James Potter." Thank God, she'd never told her parents anything about Scorpius's life at Hogwarts, so they'd never have heard James's name before. "And no, he lives in London. He comes up here when we meet up, though."

Another not-quite-lie. James always came to fetch her, before they went wherever they were going. But her parents were likely to be fairly horrified if they found out she'd been to London – not to mention Devon and the Scottish Highlands – without their knowledge.

They were both looking surprised.

"That's a long way to come," her mum commented.

Her dad's eyes narrowed. "Hold on, if he's at Scorpius's school in Scotland, how were you off meeting up with him in the middle of term? How did he get down here?"

"Well, he, um, he's actually left school. He's only a year older than me, though," she added hastily, hoping they would remember their own words about her being practically eighteen. "He was nineteen in January. So he works in London."

"Oh, he works? Gap year, or is he not planning on uni?" her mum asked.

"Well, he's not really sure what he wants to do at the moment," Hazel said, relieved that she could at least be honest there. "He's working in some office just now – some sort of internship, to do with international trade. But he doesn't really like it, so I don't think he'll stay there." Of course, she couldn't mention Quidditch. And she couldn't lie and say some other sport, because then they'd ask him about it, and she was fairly sure he knew nothing about football or rugby.

"I see. And how long have you been seeing him?' her mum went on.

"Well, since last summer, I suppose. I met him before that, but that's when we started sort of going out. But it was sort of on and off – I didn't see him for a while, then we got together properly in January. Please don't ask him this many questions tomorrow!" she added. "He hasn't even met most of my friends yet, so he's going to be getting enough people asking him things."

Her mum patted her knee.

"Don't worry – we'll try not to scare him off."

Everyone had told her not to worry, Hazel thought, after she'd escaped to her bedroom. But she couldn't help it. There was so much to worry about. Her mum and dad _would_ ask him questions, despite her mum's promise. She hoped they'd got the worst of the bombardment over just, but they were bound to want to ask other things, and they weren't the only ones either. And he not only had to have sensible answers - his answers had to match hers.

She sat down on her bed and reached for a pen and paper. He'd said he didn't want her to help him, but tough. She had to make a list of all the things she'd told her parents about him, and then make sure he knew and remembered all of them.

It was one evening. They could get through it. If they were going to last in the future, they had to.


	6. A Birthday Party

James would never have admitted it to either Rose or Hazel, but he was slightly nervous about the party. He'd never gone out with a girl long enough to be introduced to her parents, and the prospect of meeting them on the same night he was meeting all her friends was a little daunting.

Not that he was going to let that put him off, or stop him enjoying the evening, he told himself as he strolled across to the venue Hazel had told him and glanced up at it.

He'd been in Muggle bars before. He and Louis and the others had frequented them when they were too young to drink in the wizarding world, because it was easier to fool Muggles with fake IDs. However, since he'd turned seventeen, there had been no need for that, and he had not often been in one in the two years since then. Not that this was really a bar; it was a restaurant with attached function rooms, by the look of it. He pushed the door open, stepped inside and looked around.

Hazel had told him to come a little early, so that he could meet her family before everyone else arrived. If anything, this had increased his nerves, but he'd done as she suggested. The only trouble was that the place was full of ordinary customers, and he couldn't see Hazel anywhere. Then he spotted a familiar face emerge from a back room and head towards the bar.

Anna. Hazel's best friend. He'd only met her once, and that had been the night he and Hazel had first met. And he wasn't entirely sure how much of that night Anna remembered, because it had ended with a magical attack, and all the Muggles – except Hazel – had had their memories modified. But she should remember everything up until the attack, shouldn't she? And he knew that she knew who he was anyway, at least by name.

Quickly, before she could disappear again, he approached her.

"Hey, um, Anna?"

She turned towards him, surprise turning to recognition as her eyes fell on him.

"Hi! It's James, right? It's good to see you! Wait a second, Hazel's just through the back. I was just helping them set up – I just need to check something with the guy who works here." She smiled conspiratorially at him. "They're looking after the cake. You can go ahead, though. It's just through there." She gestured at the door she had come through.

"Right. Er, thanks. See you in a bit."

He left her to her cake arrangements, and crossed to the door. He had only just stepped through it when Hazel herself rushed up to him.

"James!" She was smiling, but she looked somewhat stressed, and threw a glance over her shoulder as she reached him, then pushed him backwards out of the door again.

"Whoa!" He balanced himself before she toppled him over, and also glanced over his shoulder. He didn't think, from Anna's demeanour, that Hazel was meant to be witnessing anything to do with the cake, but luckily there were quite a few people between them and the bar, and he looked back at Hazel. "Um. Hey."

It wasn't quite her usual warm greeting, and she seemed to realise it, her shoulders relaxing a little as she smiled ruefully.

"Hey."

She leaned up to kiss him, although she didn't have to lean as far as usual. She was wearing heels, and a dark blue dress that he discovered was backless when he put his hand on her back and encountered warm skin. He let his mouth linger on hers for a moment before pulling back.

"Happy birthday."

She smiled, a real smile this time.

"Thanks."

"You look great. Here." He pulled her gift out of his jacket pocket and held it out. It was small, but he had put quite a lot of thought into it, and he hoped he'd got it right.

"Thank you." She took it. "You didn't have to…"

"Well, I kind of did," he said with a grin. "Although I wanted to as well."

"Okay." She laughed, giving up. "You kind of did. But thank you. And listen, James." She looked up at him, and the worry was back on her face. "Sorry I pushed you out of the room like that. I wanted to talk to you before you talked to anyone, though. I talked to Mum and Dad last night, and you need to know what I told them…"

He tried to concentrate as she rattled off information, although some of it meant very little to him. She was nervous, he knew that. Well, he was nervous himself, although not as much as he had been before he came in. But she was worrying too much.

"Okay," he said when she seemed to have finished. "I've got it. But stop freaking out, yeah? It's your birthday – relax, it's going to be fine." He smiled as reassuringly as he could, and got a small one in return. "Have you given Malfoy all these instructions?" he couldn't help adding.

She let out a small laugh. "No. He doesn't need them – he's met my parents before, _and_ my friends. We got all that out of the way years ago. And he's going to be here any minute, so that's the other thing – be nice!"

He couldn't help the tiniest twinge of irritation. "I've already promised I will be," he reminded her. And really, tonight he didn't have much desire to be anything but polite to Malfoy. He hoped he wouldn't really need to talk to the guy, as he could do without Malfoy's judgemental eyes on him when he was meeting his girlfriend's family, but he didn't feel any of his usual urge to provoke. He was the outsider here, and Malfoy wasn't, not in the same way.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. Anyway, come and meet them."

The next thing he knew, he was being propelled across the back room of the restaurant to where a few people were setting up a lot of equipment with black boxes and wires. He had a fleeting thought that Louis would love to investigate some of that, but then Hazel pulled him to a halt, although she kept hold of his hand.

"Dad! James is here!"

The man she was speaking to put down the large black box he was carrying, straightened up, and turned to look at them. He was smiling, but James could feel that he was being assessed. It wasn't a comfortable feeling, but he needed to pull himself together.

He smiled back and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr Kitson."

"Oh, it's Robert, please. Good to meet you too, lad." Hazel's dad shook James's hand, then glanced behind himself. "Laura? Here's James."

A woman who looked very like Hazel appeared, and by the time James had shaken hands with her too, and exchanged the usual pleasantries, he was beginning to relax. After all, these were Hazel's parents. They were nice people, and they had no particular reason to dislike him. All he had to do was be polite and friendly.

"So, Hazel tells us you went to the same school as Scorpius?" Laura Kitson asked.

"Er, yes, that's right," James agreed. They were, he realised, going to assume that he and Malfoy were friends. That was awkward, but disillusioning them would be even more awkward.

"Beautiful part of the country up there," Hazel's dad – Robert – said. "I used to get up there quite a bit, climbing the hills. But you're in London now, is that right? Is that where your family is?"

"No. Well, some of them. But my parents live in Barnstaple, in Devon."

"It's a long way to come, all the way up here," Laura put in. "Are you staying with Scorpius?"

Shit. There was no help for it – he'd have to lie. There was no way anyone could think of travelling home from Lancashire to London after a party – not by Muggle transport. "Um, yeah, that's right," he said, shooting a glance at Hazel. She'd have to make sure Malfoy kept the story up.

"Scorpius is just on his way, actually," Hazel broke in. "I told James to come a bit early to say hello. James, come and meet some of the others."

She tugged him away, and after politely telling her parents he'd see them later, he went with her.

"Thanks," he muttered with a grin. "That was starting to get awkward. Didn't go too badly, though, so long as Malfoy backs us up."

"His name is Scorpius," Hazel reminded him. "And you'd better start calling him that, since you're sleeping over at his and everything." She sighed. "Just… just try not to tell anyone too much, okay?"

* * *

"Hey!"

James picked up the drink he'd just bought (without too much fumbling with the Muggle money) and turned to find Anna beside him, beaming at him.

"Oh, hi." He had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the music.

"I can't believe you're here," she went on, and he realised that she was slightly drunk. "It's so weird. I mean, weird in a good way! But last time I saw you was at that ceilidh right before the landslide. I never thought you and Hazel would end up together! How are your friends, by the way? The ones you were with that night. Wait, wasn't one of them your cousin?"

James laughed. "Louis and Adam? They're fine. And yeah, Louis's my cousin. I actually live with both of them now."

"Oh, cool! So I take it he's not the same cousin who lives in Lancaster, then?"

Cousin in Lancaster? James stared at her, confused. He had no cousin in Lancaster.

She also looked slightly puzzled. "The cousin you stay with when you come up here?"

It clicked into place. Hazel must have made up a story to account for the fact that she was able to meet up with James at weekends and in the evenings, despite the fact that he lived in London. If he was dependent on Muggle transport, he'd never be able to make it to Lancashire and back in one day. And Anna knew far more about the situation than Hazel's parents – she presumably knew that he wasn't really friends with Malfoy.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," he said, aware that he was answering a little too late. "That's a different cousin. I've got a million of them – my mum's got five brothers." That, at least, was the truth.

"Wow, big family!"

He was grateful for the fact that she wasn't quite sober, because she seemed to have moved on from his hesitation. And he was saved any more questions on that topic by the arrival of another boy, one he had not yet met, who came up on the other side of him and immediately held a hand out.

"Hi, I'm Dylan."

"James." James shook hands with him, giving a swift glance round for Hazel.

She was not visible, which wasn't surprising – it was dark, and there were people everywhere. And she hadn't been neglecting him, but she had other friends to see, and James had never been shy in a group of strangers. This boy was clearly even more drunk than Anna, though, and now that he had to deal with both of them, he wouldn't have minded a bit of back up.

"You're Hazel's boyfriend, right?" Dylan went on. "She's so _sneaky_. I never knew she was going out with anyone. Did you know?" he demanded of Anna.

"Course I knew." Anna rolled her eyes. "And you'd have noticed if you ever paid attention to anything."

Dylan waved this aside.

"Hey, you guys want shots? I'm getting shots!"

He turned to the bar and started enthusiastically ordering a round. James hesitated. He would usually have been more than up for anything like that, but he probably shouldn't get too drunk. Still, he only needed to take one, and he held his alcohol pretty well. Better than most people here, he thought.

The barman, having waited for Dylan to finish, raised his eyebrows.

"You got some ID on you, have you?"

"Seriously?" Dylan rolled his eyes. "It's a birthday party, come on!"

The man looked unimpressed. "An eighteenth birthday party. Half of you are underage."

"I've got ID." Anna slid a plastic card across the counter, and smiled hopefully, nudging James. "You've got some too, right?"

He did – it wasn't real, but it would do the job, and these days it even had his real birth date on it. Dylan was protesting that he was eighteen anyway, but the man clearly didn't believe a word. James didn't believe it either - anyone who was really eighteen would surely be carrying ID - but it also didn't bother him, and he thought he could probably swing it for them.

He pulled his own ID out of his pocket with his left hand, and with his right, found his wand. He kept it low and unobtrusive in the dim light, and both the others were focused on the man across the bar. _Confundus_ wasn't too difficult a spell, and it was one he could do wordlessly.

He laid his ID down on the bar. "There's mine," he said, interrupting them and smiling at the man as he cast the spell. It wasn't a strong one, but it didn't need to be. "And you won't need to see Dylan's again, right?"

The man looked confused for a moment, and stared at James and then at Dylan. Then he blinked, picked up first Anna's ID and then James's, gave each of them a glance and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, right, that's all right then. Got to check. Now, what did you want again?"

Dylan repeated his order, and the man turned away. Both Anna and Dylan stared at James in awe.

"Whoa! Do you have, like, mind control skills or something?" Dylan asked.

For a moment James was alarmed, but the younger boy was obviously joking. And they were puzzled, but they had no idea how he'd really done it. A moment later, shots were lining up on the bar, and Dylan, already buzzed with alcohol, was forgetting about it and handing them out to anyone he could persuade to take one.

Anna gave James one more astonished look, then took the glass Dylan pushed into her hand. James took one himself. He was starting to relax. This wasn't going badly. Rose had been wrong – completely wrong, because he'd even got away with using magic. The Muggle spirit burned his throat, and he knew he was starting to get drunk, but it didn't seem to matter. Dylan was now telling everyone – at a safe distance from the bar – that James had managed to get him served.

He'd passed the test – he was part of the crowd. Hazel's friends liked him – with the exception of Malfoy, whom he suddenly caught a glimpse of not far away, refusing to take a shot, the boring dick. No, he wasn't meant to have thoughts like that any more, was he? Well, who cared, as long as they stayed inside his head?

"Hey!" Dylan was beside him again, with one of those Muggle mobile phones in his hand. "Have you got Facebook? I'll add you!"

James stared blankly at him, the word meaning nothing. "What?"

"Facebook!" Dylan raised his voice, obviously thinking he hadn't been heard, and waved his phone in James's face. "What's your surname?"

"Potter. But I haven't got a… a…" _Shit._ "Bookface?"

Dylan laughed. "Shit, dude, how wasted are you? Seriously though, you don't have it? What about WhatsApp? What's your number?"

James blinked, and it took him a second to realise that Dylan probably meant phone number.

"Yeah, what is it?" Anna joined in from the other side of him. "I'll add you too!"

"Oh, um, I don't… I don't really have a phone," he said, trying to take a light tone and shrug it off. "Sorry."

They stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head, and he started to panic. He hadn't realised it was so weird not to have a phone. Surely Malfoy didn't have one? And he'd been part of this crowd for years.

"You don't have a phone? Why not?" Anna said.

"I mean, um, I did have one, but it, er, broke," he tried again, hoping this wasn't another mistake.

It wasn't. Their faces cleared a little, although they still looked puzzled – probably because he'd been panicking and lying, and he thought both had showed in his voice.

"Oh, right. Are you getting a new one then?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely. As soon as I can," James said with as much confidence as he could summon.

"Cool. What are you getting?"

Again, James stared at him. The silence stretched out, and he ran his hand through his hair in desperation. "Um… I don't really know."

They'd definitely noticed something was weird now, despite the alcohol. Dylan was frowning, but he still tried to carry on.

"I really want the new iPhone 11. Have you seen that?"

"Yeah, I might get that one," James agreed,completely out of his depth. How the hell could he change the subject to something safer?

"I don't know why you'd spend money on an iPhone when you can get something that does exactly the same thing for half the price," a voice said behind them.

James swung round, and for the first time in his life, he was immensely relieved to see Scorpius Malfoy. However, relief was mixed with humiliation. He'd been thoroughly caught out, and Malfoy knew it, or why would he have come over and joined in?

Dylan began holding forth on the superiority of iPhones – whatever those were – and had stopped paying attention to him. Malfoy himself had barely glanced at James, but was arguing with Dylan. Anna, however, was still looking oddly at him, and James was left feeling bothered and embarrassed by the whole thing.

* * *

His feelings, as it turned out, were justified. A little later, Hazel found him again, and he could tell from the expression on her face that she wasn't entirely happy.

"James, can I talk to you for a second?" she asked.

"Um, sure," he agreed, and followed her apart from the small group he'd been with.

He expected she would stop a little way from them, but she carried on, pulling him out of the door into the main restaurant space again. It was closed now, and empty, the chairs stacked on tables and only some dim overnight lights on.

As soon as they were away from the party, she swung to face him.

"James, did you do _magic_ on the guy at the bar?"

He stared guiltily at her. How had she found out?

"Only a really small spell," he said. "It was completely harmless, I promise – he won't have any effects or anything. It only lasted a couple of seconds."

From her face, nothing he was saying was reassuring her.

"Seriously? You're here with my friends and my parents, and you just decided to cast a spell on a random guy, right in the middle of them all? What if they'd seen you?"

"They weren't going to see me – I was careful. But I'm sorry. It probably was stupid," he admitted. "I didn't really think. But I swear it was just a tiny _Confundus_ to get some drinks."

"Well, I don't know what a _confundus_ is, any more than you apparently know what Facebook is, but Anna noticed, James. I've just been talking to her, and she said it was the weirdest thing she'd ever seen. Obviously she had no idea what you'd done, but she knew _something_ had happened, and she knew it was you. And then everything they asked you, you didn't know what they were talking about! Anna wants to know what the hell's the matter with you, or if you were just taking the piss out of them! What happened to pretending to be normal?"

"Well, I was trying!" he protested, trying not to get annoyed – it was her birthday, after all. "I think I actually did okay! Anyway, you can just tell her I was drunk – it's what that guy Dylan thinks anyway."

"Even Dylan's not stupid," Hazel snapped. "Nobody forgets what an iPhone is because they're drunk. And anyway, even if you got away with it, you can't go casting spells on people just because you _can_! It… it's wrong! If you'd do it to him, how do I know you wouldn't do it to me?"

"Oh, come on!" he said, beginning to lose the battle with his temper. "That's ridiculous! Obviously I wouldn't do that to _you_. And I admit, I shouldn't have done it at all. It was stupid, and I'm sorry. But it hasn't done any _harm_. What d'you want me to do?"

She stared at him, and through the slight alcoholic mist he realised that for some reason she was very upset. He felt out of his depth again, and a little annoyed that he was out of his depth, because this seemed an entirely out-of-proportion reaction to the small mistakes he'd made. None of them were things that couldn't be glossed over. Nobody had come near the _truth._ Nothing had happened that would require a memory charm or anything like that – Anna would think it was a bit weird until she forgot about it, if she even remembered tomorrow, because they'd all had quite a lot to drink.

The pause was long enough to be uncomfortable.

"James, I trusted you," she said quietly at last. "You told me it would be okay. You told me you wouldn't have any problem pretending, and I trusted you even though I _knew_ I probably shouldn't. I could have helped you – I could have told you about Facebook and phones and everything, but you wouldn't let me! You said you wouldn't do anything weird, and then after all that you go and cast a _spell_ on the barman for no reason at all!"

There were tears in her eyes. In dismay, James stepped forward and tried to put his arms round her.

"Hazel – Merlin, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I honestly did try – look, I won't let them catch me out again, if I don't know something I'll just pretend I didn't hear the question. And I'm sorry about the spell, I just didn't think…"

Hazel disentangled herself from his arms.

"Look, James, I just… I don't know what to do about it, okay? I've got to think. I've got to think about everything. Because this is one night! It's only been a few hours and all this has already happened. Is it going to be like this every time? Because I don't know if I can do it! I can't live in your world all the time, but look what happens the minute you step into mine! How can we be together like this, James? It doesn't work."

There was a ringing in his ears. She couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying – not now, not after everything.

"Hazel…"

"I've got to think," she repeated. "Just... just give me some space to think, okay?" And she turned away from him, disappearing in the direction of the toilets.

James stood staring after her for a moment, and then, since there didn't seem to be much else to do – he'd followed her once when she'd run out on him, and she'd made it very clear that that was unwelcome – he turned back towards the party.

Scorpius Malfoy was standing in the doorway, looking at him.

Immediately, all his dislike of Malfoy came rushing back, and he glared at him.

"What the hell are you doing there? Listening in, were you?"

"No, not really," Malfoy said. "I came to see where Hazel was. I only heard the last bit, but I'm pretty sure I know what it was about. I just talked to Anna too. I told her you're a big enough idiot at the best of times, but that you lose all your small brain capacity when you're drunk, and I think she bought it, so you can thank me for that. Although the _Confundus_ – I'm assuming that's what it was – was unbelievably stupid, even for you."

"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy," James snarled, in no mood to exchange sarcastic comments. "It's none of your business, so leave it alone!"

"Yeah, it is." Malfoy didn't move from the doorway. "She's my best friend, and she's upset. And if people like Anna and Dylan start asking questions, I'm going to have to answer them too. They know we went to the same school. Plus," he added quietly, "I saved you back there, so the least you can do is listen to me."

James scowled. He supposed – although he didn't want to admit it – that Malfoy was right in everything he was saying. But he didn't want to discuss it.

"Listen to you about what?" he said. "What d'you even want to say about it?"

Malfoy looked at him in silence for a moment, and James shifted impatiently.

"Look, Malfoy…"

"What _do_ you know about Hazel's life?" Malfoy interrupted.

"What? What's that supposed to mean? I know plenty about her life – although if you're trying to turn this into a competition, I'll give you that you probably know more, since you've known her ten years or whatever…"

"Stop assuming I'm here to have a go at you, Potter!" Malfoy broke in again. "Merlin. I'm trying to help, although I don't know why I'm bothering. What _is_ this with you and Hazel, anyway? I mean, is this just a game to you, or are you actually serious?"

For a moment, James had no answer – not because he didn't know the answer, but because he couldn't believe he was standing here having this conversation with Scorpius Malfoy.

"It's not a game, Malfoy," he said quietly at last. Although he wasn't sure there was any _this_ to be serious about, after what had just happened. "Believe me or not, but can you just drop it now?"

"No," Malfoy said. "Because look, I'm not going to pretend I love the fact that you two are going out, but she's my best friend. She's like my sister. And I'm not going to stand by and let you hurt her."

James opened his mouth to protest, but Malfoy pressed on without waiting.

"Don't you get it? She's not upset because you didn't know what Facebook was, or because you cast a stupid spell on someone – although actually, she probably is a bit upset about that; she's got a bit of a thing about us casting spells on Muggles without them knowing, which you should talk to her about because she has some pretty good points. But the real reason she's upset is because you didn't bother to learn about any of it!"

James stared at him, silenced. He wanted to interrupt, to tell Malfoy he didn't need his help, but the truth was he _did_ need it. Because Malfoy had known Hazel a lot longer than he had.

After a small pause, Malfoy went on, pulling something out of his pocket. "Look. This is _my_ phone. I got this one last year, but I've had one since I was fourteen, because Hazel doesn't have an owl to send letters by, and she's not on the floo network. I use her ways to communicate. I have an email address. I know what the internet is. Because those are things Muggles _need_ , same as we need wands and floo powder. You can't just drag her into our world and expect her to live like a witch, only with no magic."

"I don't!" James protested, galvanised into speech again by this. "I've never expected that!"

"Except you never step into her world – or if you do, you make zero effort to understand it. So she doesn't have a choice, does she?"

It was definitely the longest time he had ever heard Malfoy talk for. Or maybe just the longest time he had ever listened to Malfoy. And James didn't want to admit it, but it made a certain kind of sense. He hadn't been as selfish as Malfoy was making him out to be, he told himself. Hazel had _asked_ to be taken places in the wizarding world. She had wanted to learn about it.

But it had never even occurred to him that she might have things she wanted to show him too. He swallowed, battling with his pride.

"Okay," he said at last. It was painful to concede anything to Malfoy, but he owed it to Hazel. "Point taken. I don't know if there's anything I can do about it now though."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Of course there is. She didn't break up with you – Hazel doesn't give up on things that easily. Just, go and talk to her. Only don't tell her any of this came from me. Not yet anyway."

"Why are you doing this?" James asked, frowning.

"Because I care about Hazel and whether she's happy. And I have no idea why, but she likes you. So try not to be a dick to her, will you?"


	7. Difficult Conversations

Hazel took refuge in the girls' toilets. The one belonging to the closed restaurant, rather than the one attached to the function room, because people were coming and going from that one all the time, and she didn't want to see anyone right at that moment. The lights came on automatically when they sensed her movement, and she blinked at herself in the mirror. She had tears in her eyes, so she grabbed a tissue and dabbed underneath them as carefully as she could; she was wearing mascara, and the last thing she wanted was anyone thinking she had been crying.

She wasn't going to cry. There was no need for it. It was her birthday, and she wasn't going to let anything spoil her evening.

Except the thought of going back into the party and pretending nothing had happened made her want to cry even more. Maybe she'd been too harsh. She could have left it for tonight, and talked to him about it tomorrow or some other day. But then how many more times would he have messed things up tonight? Perhaps in worse ways. And she was _angry_ with him. If she hadn't said anything, she'd have had to pretend everything was fine to him too; she'd have had to dance with him and laugh with him and kiss him, and she was too annoyed to want to do any of that.

Had she meant what she said? Yes. She didn't want to break up with him. He was warm and funny, and underneath all the stuff he put on for show, he was kind, and he'd let her see that side of him, and also some of his more vulnerable side. She wanted to be with that guy. But then he did things like this, and it all seemed impossible.

She took a deep breath and examined her reflection. No, she didn't think the tears showed. She just had to hold it together now. But if she went back out there, she'd have to see him, and she didn't know what to do or say. She'd meant it when she said she needed to think, only she didn't have time to think. Unless he hadn't stayed. Maybe he'd just have left, and although that would solve her immediate problem, it also sent a wave of desolation through her.

The evening was spoiled either way, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Someone tapped lightly at the door, and her head jerked round. It was possible someone would decide to use these toilets if the others were occupied, but it was a multi-cubicled room. There was no need to knock. Unless…

"Who is it?" she asked.

There was a pause, then James's voice said, "It's me."

Hazel sighed. She could refuse to talk to him. She could repeat that she needed time, and it would be true, not just a way of getting out of the conversation. But then the party would be ruined irrevocably for both of them, and she'd still have to go out there and pretend everything was fine to her friends and her parents. And it was what she always did, wasn't it? Try to avoid the confrontations, the difficult conversations. Put them off. It never made things easier in the long term.

"It's not locked," she said at last. "You can come in."

"Well, I know," he agreed. "But it's the girls' toilets."

She walked over and yanked the door open.

"James, there's nobody here. Just get in, will you? I don't want to sit in the hall in the dark and talk to you."

"But you're okay with talking to me?" He did as she told him and came inside, the door swinging shut behind him.

She sighed again. "I don't know. Yes, I suppose so. I don't want to _not_ talk to you."

He leaned against the sinks, his hands in his jeans pockets.

"I'm sorry I fucked up," he said into the pause that followed.

She nodded. "I know you are. And I can forgive you for the stupid stuff. But I wish you'd at least try to understand."

"Well, I will," he said.

She stared at him, not quite sure what he meant.

"I'll try," he went on. "I mean, I am trying. And I'll try harder, if you'll let me, I swear I will. Just, give me another chance, Hazel. Please?"

She could tell he meant it. He sounded slightly desperate, and he'd taken his hands out of his pockets and was gripping the edge of the sink behind him hard. She didn't want to hurt him, and she didn't want to hurt herself. But how many chances was she going to need to give him?

"When you do magic," she said slowly, "it's incredible. I live in a world where nobody believes magic's real, and I love that it is. But then you wave a wand and make a man forget to do his job, and that's kind of _terrifying_. And unfair. Because you're messing with him and he doesn't know it, and he couldn't stop you even if he did. And nor could I. We deserve more respect than that. That guy's not some pawn for you to make him do whatever you want him to do. My friends aren't idiots or babies, to be taken in by some… some sleight of hand."

She kept her eyes fixed on him as she spoke. Quite a lot, she thought, depended on his reaction. If he couldn't get what she was saying, she wasn't sure how much of the rest of it he could ever understand.

"I know!" he said, and he sounded a little horrified. "Merlin, Hazel, I know that!" He stopped, as if he might have said more but had brought himself up short. "And I wasn't acting like I knew it," he went on, more quietly. "You're right. I just… I suppose I just take magic for granted, so if I can use it to make things easier, I do."

"You can't just do that to other human beings though," she said. "Just like you don't touch someone physically unless they're okay with it. Especially when they've got no way of stopping you."

There was a moment's silence.

"I never thought about it like that before," he said at last.

And she didn't think it was wishful thinking that she heard a touch of shame in his voice. Suddenly, she had a little hope again. Maybe Scorpius was right. Maybe they just needed to talk about things more. The hard things, as well as the easy, pleasant things.

"Well, can you think about it like that now?" She pushed on. "And maybe think about it before you do it again - to _anyone_? But this is the problem, James." She felt a lump in her throat again, and swallowed hard before continuing. "Magic's so normal to you, you don't think about how it must feel not to have any. And it doesn't feel like there's anything missing when I'm just with my friends, but you… you can just spin us around, and we're at the other end of the country. It makes me feel so helpless and useless. And I've seen what spells can do. I've seen a _kid_ being forced to humiliate herself and threaten her friends. I've seen someone bring down the side of a mountain! Can you even imagine how scary that is if I let myself think about it? Knowing that _you_ could do that, if you wanted to?"

She paused to take a breath. It had all come spilling out in the end, and she _was_ crying, but she couldn't help it. She wiped a tear away from under her eye. Somehow, she had to make him see it from her point of view.

"Hazel," he said, and now she definitely wasn't imagining how appalled he sounded. "Merlin, I'm sorry. You're right. I… I just thought I was showing you everything, like you wanted. And I wanted to impress you," he admitted. "I never thought…" He didn't finish the sentence, but held a hand out to her.

She met his eyes, and they held nothing but anxiety and guilt. He didn't move to touch her, but kept his hand where it was, a silent plea for forgiveness - or maybe a plea to let him try to make amends.

She ignored his hand, stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. A moment later, his were around her too, and she was pressed against his chest. For a moment, they just stood there, and as she breathed in the smell of him, Hazel knew she couldn't just throw this away without trying. Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it would never work. But they had to _try_.

She could feel the tension still in him, although it had relaxed once she walked into his arms.

"Hazel," he said, above her head. "I… look, I fuck things up. I always do it. And I'm sorry if I still make mistakes. But I _never_ want to make you feel unsafe. Ever. So if I do, if I ever do anything that makes you even a tiny bit uncomfortable in that way, you have to tell me, okay?"

There was so much raw emotion in his voice that she pulled back slightly so she could look up into his face. He looked as though there might have tears in his eyes too. Hazel nodded.

"Okay. I will, I promise. But that means no more casting spells on random, innocent people without them knowing. No matter who they are, or how harmless the spell is."

"I won't. I swear. If it makes you feel any better," he added after a small pause, "I don't have the first idea how to cast either of those spells you saw people using. I don't even know what the spell that caused the landslide _was_. And they don't teach the Imperius Curse at Hogwarts. If I waved my wand and shouted _Imperio_ , I can pretty much guarantee that not a lot would happen. Not that I'm going to try it. But it's not like we just have limitless power. You have to learn stuff, and practise it."

Her lips curved into a small smile. "Actually, that does make me feel a bit better. Thanks."

He looked down at her. "I don't know if there's more you want to talk about. But at some point we should probably get back to the party. I mean, I'm happy to talk about anything you want to talk about," he added quickly. "But, um, if we're much longer people are going to get the wrong idea about what we've been doing in the toilets, and that isn't really the first impression I wanted to make on your parents."

She laughed, a little shakily. "We've been gone long enough that people probably have already."

She pushed herself back from him. She _did_ feel better - much better, and not just because of what he'd told her about the limits of his own capabilities (although she wanted to know more details of exactly what he could and couldn't do with magic). But his reactions had shown her that there was a point in making an effort. That he was someone she wanted to make an effort for, and that he felt the same way.

There was more to talk about, a lot more. But he was right - this wasn't the time. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

"God, I need to fix my make-up."

He also laughed. "Yet another thing I can't do for you with a wand. Lily could, but I have no idea how she does it."

Luckily, it was only some mascara smudged under her eyes, because she'd left her bag hanging with her coat back in the party. She wetted a tissue and dabbed gently at the smears.

"And before we go back in," James added as she did so. "You have to tell me. What the hell _is_ Facebook?"


	8. Muggle Ways

James walked up the hall of his parents' house, hesitated a moment, then banged on his sister's bedroom door. There was no response, so he pushed it open. Lily was sprawled on her front on the bed, parchment and her Potions textbook in front of her, scowling at it as she chewed on the end of her quill.

"Oi, Lil," he said loudly.

She jumped, and looked round.

"Jamie! Where did you come from?"

"Well, literally? The living room. I just flooed in. Listen, Lil…" He hesitated again. There was no help for it. "Are you using your Muggle Studies books right now?"

"Obviously not." She waved her hand at her Potions work. "Why?"

"Well, could I, um, borrow them?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide. "Borrow my Muggle Studies books? _Why_?"

He shrugged, attempting to look as if it didn't really matter. "I wanted to check something, that's all. I'll give you them back."

"Well, I'd need them back really soon," she said. "Like, tomorrow. I've got OWLs starting after Easter, and I need to revise. What d'you want to check, anyway? I might even know it."

"It's not any one specific fact," James began, then paused. How the hell did he explain without actually explaining?

She stared at him in a puzzled way, then her face cleared.

"Oh! Is it because you're going out with Scorpius's friend? Hazel, right?"

James glared at her. He wasn't entirely surprised she'd heard, but that didn't make him any more pleased.

"Who the hell told you?" he demanded.

"Hugo. But what d'you want to find out? I can help!" She dived sideways, half off her bed, and grabbed a book from among the pile on the floor beside her.

"No, look, if you need the book, it doesn't matter. Forget it." James hesitated. "Hugo's the only person who mentioned it then?"

"Yeah, who else would have done?" Lily struggled into a sitting position, clutching the book.

"Well, Rose, Louis." He paused again. "Malfoy, maybe."

She blinked. "Scorpius _knows_? Wow! I can't believe he _didn't_ tell me!" She sounded indignant for a moment, then her voice changed. "What does he think about it?"

James shrugged, wishing he'd never brought it up. He supposed he should be grateful to Malfoy for _not_ telling her. Hugo deserved to be strangled.

"I haven't talked to him," he lied. "He can think what he wants. Anyway, if he hasn't said anything to you, that's fine. And don't you dare go saying anything to _him_ about it," he added. You never knew with Lily. She'd just blurt things out without thinking, and who knew where that conversation might end?

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I might tell him what I think of him for not telling me, but that'll be it. Not everyone talks about you the whole time, you know, Jamie. But seriously," she added. "What are you looking up? I've got plenty of Muggle Studies books, and some actual Muggle books too. You know, novels and stuff. Sometimes they're better than the text books – and they're more fun to read."

James bit his lip. He'd have preferred to tell people as little as possible about things between him and Hazel, but Lily knew way more about this stuff than he did. She might be able to help. And by himself, he wasn't sure where to start.

"Well, look. D'you know anything about…" He struggled to remember the terms Hazel had used. "The internet? And websites? Like, um, I can't remember what they're called. There's something called Facebook, though."

"Ooh, yes, a bit." Her eyes lit up. "That's all in our Popular Culture and Media module. It's really interesting, but it's sort of hard to get your head round." She broke into a smile. "Hey, I've got an idea! I need to revise this stuff, and you want to learn it." She held out the book to him, and patted the bed beside her with her other hand. "So come on - you can help me study!"

* * *

Two hours later, James, lying on his back across Lily's bed, sighed and let the book that was propped on his chest fall face down.

"Merlin, who knew this stuff was so complicated? And there's so _much_ of it."

She looked thoughtfully at him as she sat cross-legged at the head of the bed.

"Well, it's helping me. Is it helping you?"

"I don't know. I s'pose so. I mean, I still don't get what the internet is or how it works."

"Professor Heron says that's not the kind of thing most Muggles know either. I mean, they know how to use it, but knowing how it really works is specialised knowledge. Like most of us don't necessarily know _how_ a spell works, even if we can do it."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true." James sighed again. "So if I wanted to get a mobile phone, how would I do that?"

Lily tapped her quill on her teeth and thought for a moment.

"I don't know. A Muggle shop, probably. Scorpius has got one…"

"I'm not asking him," James broke in. "And you're not asking for me either, okay?"

"Okay, fine." She rolled her eyes. "Actually, I think Aunt Hermione's got one too. She rings her mum and dad on it – she says it's more convenient than one of those ones that plugs into the wall."

"Really?" James glanced at her. "Well, thanks. That might be useful."

Could he manage to ask Aunt Hermione about it without giving away why he wanted to know? He doubted it. She was too good at knowing when someone was hiding something. But did it matter? At some point, he was going to have to introduce Hazel to the rest of his family.

"I don't get it, though," Lily said after a pause. "Why can't you just ask her this stuff? She'd probably be able to tell you loads more than you'll get from a book. What's going on with you guys? Hugo said… Well, I didn't really get what he was talking about, but it sounded kind of complicated. Are you actually going out with her, or…?"

James lifted the book again, and stared at the page without reading it. Lily was incapable of minding her own business, and she was bloody terrible with secrets. But she'd also spent the last two hours helping him, despite the fact that most of their conversations in the last year had been arguments. It was his fault that they'd kept arguing as well – he couldn't deny that.

"Yeah, I'm going out with her," he said, still looking at the book. "And she would tell me this stuff, I know. But I don't want to have to ask her _everything_. I want her to know I can work some stuff out on my own." It wasn't the whole story, but it was the essence of it. And Lily certainly didn't need to know about his screw-ups at the party.

"Oh. Okay. Well, that's nice," Lily said.

"Nice?" James raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at her.

"Yeah. It shows you care. Though Professor Heron says that if we really want to learn about Muggles, we can't do it by reading about them. We have to go out and live with them, and learn to do things their way. So basically if you're going out with her, you've got the best chance you could possible get." She giggled. "Although I can't see you actually leaving your wand behind and living like a Muggle, so maybe you'd better borrow some of my books after all."

* * *

The good thing about Aunt Hermione was that she was fairly discrete. The bad thing was that she lived in the same house as Hugo. James would have liked to wait until Hugo had gone back to school, but that was another week, and he didn't have time. Luckily, as long as he called before about 10am, Hugo was also unlikely to be awake. Rose was an early riser, but he'd just have to take his chances there. He wasn't as worried about her; she'd laugh at him, but she wouldn't go around chatting to everyone about it.

In fact, Aunt Hermione herself answered the door, looking somewhat surprised to find him standing on the doorstep. Ushered into the kitchen, he found only Uncle Ron there, finishing his breakfast.

"Morning, Jamie." Uncle Ron also looked surprised. "Bit early for a visit, isn't it? They can't be working you hard enough at the Ministry if you're up and about by this time on a Sunday."

"Coffee, James?" Hermione held her wand to the pot, warming it up.

James accepted and took a seat at the table, wondering how to breach what he had really come round for. He didn't want to get into talking about Hazel with both of them here.

"The kids aren't around, I'm afraid," Ron said. "At least, we haven't seen Hugo yet this morning, and Rose… Where _is_ Rose?" he asked Hermione, glancing around.

"She went for a run. She's determined to pass those Auror fitness tests." She shook her head. "And I've never known Rose fail a test, so it looks like we're going to have another of them in the family."

James was relieved. If Rose was out, that made it easier. Although he didn't know how long she'd be running for, so he'd better not wait too long.

"Hey, Aunt Hermione," he said, taking a mouthful of his coffee and trying to sound casual. "I wanted to ask you something actually. Lily was saying you've got a mobile phone or something?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well, yes, I have. Why?"

There was no help for it.

"Well, I want to get one, if I can. So I was wondering where you got yours, and y'know, if you've got any advice or anything."

She looked surprised again, but not displeased.

"Oh! Yes, of course. But what do you want with one? I didn't realise it was something any of you kids used. You know it won't work around too much magic, don't you? Mine's mostly all right in the house, so long as nobody casts any spells while I'm actually using it, or while it's charging. But I can't use it at all at work, or in Diagon Alley or anywhere like that."

"I know," James said, then paused, wondering how to go on, and how much to say.

"You don't want to get one of those things," Ron put in. "Ordinary phones were bad enough, but these ones are complete nightmares. Impossible to use. You touch the screen in the wrong place, and you find you've called the Muggle police or something by mistake."

"Rubbish," Hermione said. "James'll get the hang of it. He's not as old and stuck in his ways as you. I'd say you'll need to get a pay-as-you-go phone, Jamie, because you haven't got a Muggle bank account, have you? So you'll need to make sure you know what network you're on. And what kind you get depends a bit on what you want it for."

"What d'you mean, network?" James interrupted. "What's a network?"

In fact, he had understood very little of what she had told him, and was starting to feel slightly panicked by the idea of trying to go into a shop and buy one of these things. Maybe it was all too complicated and he should just forget it.

Hermione looked at him.

"On second thoughts, I think I should probably come with you," she said.

Once Aunt Hermione made up her mind on a course of action, there wasn't usually much time wasted. James found himself being swept along beside her on a Muggle street, busy despite it being a Sunday.

"So, I have to ask," she said, glancing sideways at him. "What _has_ prompted this sudden interest in technology? Did you just fancy it, or is there some specific purpose for this?"

James grinned. "I promise I haven't got anything planned that you'd disapprove of. Good enough?"

"Well, I suppose it'll have to be, if that's all you're prepared to tell me. It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain girl Hugo may have mentioned, though, would it?"

"Fucking hell!" James groaned. "Sorry. But seriously, has he literally told the entire family?"

His aunt chuckled. "I couldn't say. Although I did tell him that a bit more discretion might be appreciated when it comes to other people's private business, so I hope he might have listened to me. As far as I know, Ron doesn't know, and I haven't mentioned it to anyone. You're an adult, James, and you're entitled to your own life. I assume I'm right, though?"

James could feel that his face was burning, and he mentally hexed Hugo with the most unpleasant things he could think of.

"Well, it's not really a secret," he muttered.

"Oh, I see."

She sounded thoughtful, but James refused to look at her, keeping his eyes focused on weaving through the crowds. Aunt Hermione, however, stopped.

"We're going in here." She indicated the shop beside them, then pulled the door open and held it for him.

With his aunt there, James did not have to do much talking, for which he was immensely grateful, because he understood very little of the conversation she had with the salesperson. As they left the shop again, he turned to her.

"I could have paid for it, you know. You didn't have to do that."

"Really?" she asked quietly. "How much Muggle money have you got on you?"

James thought about this. "Not enough," he admitted. "But I could have gone to Diagon Alley first, and changed some. I've got plenty in Gringotts."

"Please try to keep your voice down, James. We're in a Muggle street. It was much better and less conspicuous to pay with my card."

"Well, thanks. I'll pay you back," he told her.

"Buy me something special for my birthday, and stop worrying about it," she said. "Now, do you remember your network?"

James thought back over the information he had tried to absorb. "Yeah. And the stuff about vouchers, although I'm pretty sure I'll screw it up."

"You'll get the hang of it. And does that house of yours have electrical sockets?"

"Yeah, it's a Muggle place. We don't use them though."

"Well, you'll need them to charge it. And if anyone casts a spell nearby while it's charging, you'll have to take it out and plug it back in, because it'll stop working. I would say I'll show you how to work it quickly now, but you'll need to charge it first."

"That's okay. I'll get Hazel to show me. Thanks, Aunt Hermione." He smiled at her, genuinely grateful.

It somehow made the whole thing with Hazel seem easier and more normal, when his aunt knew all this stuff. After all, she came from the Muggle world originally – it wasn't as if it was a different planet.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Hazel. That's her name, is it?"

"Oh. Yeah. I thought Hugo would have told you."

For a moment, her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to remember something, then she shook her head. "He didn't tell me any details. By the way, I've assumed that your mum and dad don't know about her?"

"No," James mumbled. "I'm going to tell them though, sometime soon." He looked anxiously at her. "Please don't tell them."

"No, I'll leave that to you to do in your own time," she said. "But you don't need to look so worried about it, you know. I'm sure they'll be delighted. And there's nothing _that_ embarrassing about them."

* * *

The party had been on Friday night, and it was Monday by the time he saw Hazel again. Although they had parted on good terms, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Part of him was terrified she would have changed her mind. That she would have thought about it over the weekend and decided that it didn't matter how hard he tried, that it was still too much for her. He failed to concentrate on anything all day at work – although admittedly, that was nothing unusual – and left as fast as he could at the end of the day.

He was reassured almost as soon as he saw her. She was waiting in the usual place, leaning against a tree, evening sun making splashes of light on her hair as it shone through the leaves. She straightened up and smiled as she spotted him, and the boredom of the day at work was gone. They met on the path.

"Hey," he said quietly. "So, er. Are we okay then?"

Her smile faded a little, but she didn't frown, only looked a little more serious.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned we are. If you really meant the things you said on Friday…"

"I did," he said quickly.

"Well then." She kissed him lightly, then broke away. "I s'pose no relationship's exactly easy, even with no magic involved."

He laughed. "I suppose not."

Honestly, he had no real idea. He'd always found them easy in the past – romantic relationships, at least. But he'd also never felt like this about anyone before. This thing with Hazel meant something, and that was why it was so complicated.

"Hey, so I got something I thought might be useful," he said, feeling in his pocket and bringing out the new phone.

He had successfully charged the battery the night before, although he hadn't managed to do much else with it, other than turn it on and off again, to check that it seemed to be working. She blinked at it, then stared up at him, looking confused.

"A phone? Where did you get it? D'you mean you _bought_ it?"

"No, I stole it." He laughed at the expression on her face. "Course I bought it. Went to a Muggle shop and everything."

She was still surprised, but she was starting to look pleased as well.

"Really? Did you get it just because of me?"

"Well, I thought it would make things easier." He shrugged. "Save us having to make arrangements way in advance, and we wouldn't have to worry about your mum and dad seeing owls."

"That's why Scorpius got one." She held her hand out. "Can I see it?"

He handed it over, and she pressed the button on the side and watched it light up.

"How did you know what to get?"

"Oh, I did some research and stuff," he said, not particularly wanting to admit that his aunt had gone with him and bought it for him. "Is it a good one?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's fine. Have you got a contract or d'you need to put money on it?"

"It's pay-as-you-go," he said, repeating Aunt Hermione's phrase. "It's got some money on it for the moment. The guy did it in the shop." He grinned. "But I need you to show me how to work it."

"Well, first of all." Her fingers danced over the screen, tapping here and there, before she held it up to him and went on. "There you go. You've got my number. And I called it, so I've got yours as well. We'll have to make you an email address so you can get Facebook and stuff. Look, if you want to text me, you just hit that button there. Or to call, it's that one." She beamed at him. "We can actually communicate normally now!"

"To be honest, it's easier than our ways, even if you did have magic," he admitted. "I don't know why more of us don't have them. Well, I do – it's because they don't work when there's too much magic around. But you'd have thought someone would be able to find a way round that these days, if they actually tried."

She glanced at him, a strange expression on her face, and hesitated before speaking.

"Scorpius got his to work at Hogwarts. It took him a while, but he did it."

James stared at her, taken aback. "Really? _How_?"

"I don't know, you'd have to ask him. Anyway." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering. If you really want me to show you things about the way I live, I can start with showing you my house. My mum and dad are out," she added, then went on quickly, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "I mean, only for the evening. So you wouldn't need to worry about them asking you questions or anything, is what I mean."

"Oh. Er, yeah, sure." He recovered from his slight surprise at the sudden invitation. "If you think your mum and dad won't mind."

She shrugged. "Well, it's my house too. I thought we could order some food in or something. Unless you specially wanted to go out?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Order some food in? How does that work?"

"Oh, you don't do that? Well. That's where your education can start." She grinned. "Sorry, it's not quite as exciting as flying."

James laughed. "I don't know, I'm pretty excited for this food you're going to order from somewhere."

He took her hand as they began to walk out of the park in the direction of her house. It was true, he was looking forward to seeing where she lived, quite apart from the fact that he was hungry after work. But for the tiniest moment, he had hesitated before accepting the invitation. Not because he had any doubt of whether he wanted to accept it, but because she had not seemed totally sure about offering it. And he knew why – it was obvious. Her parents were out – she was taking him to an empty house, which could potentially lead to a number of things. Of course, his mind _had_ gone there, even in the moment before she blushed and got awkward about it, but he hoped she knew he wasn't making any assumptions.

They hadn't slept together yet. She had made it clear early on that she had not, in fact, slept with anyone yet, and initially they had been taking it slowly. She hadn't been sure about going out with him at all, let alone anything else. And after her reaction last summer when he had kissed her for the first time, James had been somewhat anxious to take things at her pace. He was happy to wait as long as she wanted, and he'd have liked to tell her that, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up without it sounding like he was suggesting things.

The awkward moment had passed, however, and she was talking cheerfully about all the things you could do with a mobile phone by the time they reached her house.

It was an ordinary terraced house in a row of others. James had grown up in a house that had not originally belonged to wizards, and he had had Muggle neighbours, but he didn't think he'd ever been in any of their homes. He had been to his dad's cousin's house, but not that frequently, and mostly when he was younger. Their house had always seemed uncomfortably new and sparkling, with hard surfaces everywhere. Hazel's home felt more lived-in, with less white and more soft furnishings. Much more like what James was used to, in fact.

"This is the kitchen," Hazel said, leading him through. "And I've been in Scorp's house, so I know you have fridges and cookers and things. The only difference is that ours run on electricity. That's the microwave," she added, as he stopped to examine something that looked like a small oven sitting on the kitchen counter. "It's for heating food up. And this is the living room, through here."

James followed her, and brightened at what he saw on the wall there.

"Oh hey, you've got a TV!"

"Yeah, most people have one of those." She sounded amused. "Is that something you researched as well, or have you seen one before?"

James grinned. "Hey, I'm not completely clueless. My dad's cousin's a Muggle, and we used to watch TV at his house. Mostly those cartoon film things."

"Wait, your dad's cousin isn't a wizard? Is he… is he one of those people born in a magical family with no magic? Scorpius told me about them."

"No, it's actually the opposite in my family." James stood in front of the TV screen and examined it. He thought he remembered the TV at Dudley's house having buttons, but there were none on this one. "My dad's mum was a witch born into a Muggle family. We don't have much contact with that side of the family, though. Not because they're Muggles, just because they're not really great people. Dad's cousin's all right, but his aunt and uncle are dicks."

"Oh!" Hazel sounded as if this was something of a revelation. "So you're not a… a pure-blood wizard then?"

"Nope. I s'pose officially I'm a half-blood, which basically covers everyone in between a pure-blood and a Muggle-born. Honestly, there's no such thing as a pure-blood – we've all got Muggle blood in there somewhere. They've got some technical definition they use to decide how many generations away from you it has to be before you count as a pure-blood, but it's all a load of bollocks. There are only a few families who even care about it anymore."

"The blood purists," she said quietly.

"Yeah." James glanced sideways at her, wondering how much she really knew about Scorpius Malfoy's family. He didn't particularly want to be the person who brought that up though. And it wasn't as if Malfoy himself had shown much sign of holding any very offensive views.

"But… but none of your family think that kind of thing matters, do they?" She sounded a little uncertain.

He turned away from the TV to face her. "Merlin, no! They think the _opposite_ of that. They'll think you're great. _Too_ great – my grandad will never stop asking you questions, and you'll probably end up doing Lily's Muggle Studies homework for her if you're not careful. That's the issue." He hesitated. "My family is into adopting people. Sometimes it's a bit full-on. But I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to come round and meet my parents some time. I mean, you probably don't after what I've just told you, and I'll totally get that. But I've met yours, so I just wondered…"

The truth was he'd never introduced a girlfriend to his parents before. It was easy to get away with not, when you were away at school, and he'd never gone out with anyone long enough or been serious enough about it to think about that kind of thing. He wasn't entirely sure what their reactions would be – not _bad,_ that was certain, and they'd probably be pleased, but also somewhat taken aback. And while Mum and Dad were actually some of the less embarrassing people in the family, they still had their moments. He looked anxiously at Hazel for her response.

For a moment, she looked startled. Then she smiled. "I'd like that, yeah. Though I have already met your dad," she added, as if this had only just occurred to her.

It certainly hadn't occurred to James. "Really? When?"

"At Hogwarts, after the landslide. But we weren't going out then obviously, so I was just a random girl. He seemed really nice, though."

"Oh. Right. Well, he's a bit different at home than he is when he's doing his job." James grinned. "But he is pretty nice most of the time. I thought we could wait until next week though – that way Al and Lily'll have gone back to school, so at least you won't have to deal with them at the same time."

Hazel laughed. "Honestly, from everything you've said, and the ones I've met, I don't think 'dealing' with your family's going to be as difficult as you keep pretending. But next week is fine."

"Great. You can come round for dinner or something. And talking of dinner…" James looked hopefully at her. "You were going to show me what you meant by ordering food."

Some time later, they were relaxing in front of the television. She had ordered pizza, and it had been delivered to the door, a system James thoroughly approved of, and he had been able to produce enough Muggle money to pay for his share, since he had been to Gringotts and changed some after work, in anticipation of spending a bit more time in the Muggle world. Then she had put on an episode of one of her favourite TV shows, called 'The X-Files', while they ate. James had found it slightly confusing but completely engrossing. He had never really watched television aside from the cartoons at his dad's cousin's, and given that Dudley's children were both several years younger than James, he had tended to find their videos a bit childish. This was like nothing he had ever seen before, although he only understood about half of what was going on.

He looked at her as it came to an end, and found that she was watching him, a smirk on her face.

"What?"

"Nothing. Did you know that you tried to pick a piece of pizza up three times in a row at one point, and got the box every time?"

"Shut up." He grinned. "I was concentrating. Do Muggles actually believe in that sort of stuff?" He waved his hand at the TV screen.

"In aliens? Some people do. But 'The X-Files' is just a story. It's fiction. Although some of the stories in it are based on myths, and some of those… Well, from things Scorpius has told me, I know where the myths come from. You'd probably recognise some of the creatures they find from your textbooks."

He thought about this for a moment.

"Those creatures in our textbooks really exist," he said. "They aren't myths."

"I know, but _we_ think they're myths. Dragons and stuff. Although 'The X Files' don't go as far as having dragons in the show."

James laughed. "Some time, I'll have to introduce you to my Uncle Charlie. He looks after dragons in Romania."

"Jesus." Hazel shook her head. "Your world is crazy. I can't show you anything that exciting in mine."

She shuffled the empty pizza box onto the coffee table and leaned against him. James put an arm around her and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"Well, to be fair, my day was anything but exciting."

She tilted her face up towards him, half laughing and half serious.

"You have to find a different job, James."

"Yeah, well."

He knew she was right, and also that she knew it wasn't that simple. It wasn't as if jobs were falling off trees all around him. But he didn't want to talk about it. He leaned in to kiss her again instead, and her lips met his half way. He kissed her deeper, and felt her hands move to the back of his neck, her fingers in his hair. This was definitely better than thinking about work.

Somehow they had slid down and were lying on the sofa; she was half on top of him, and as she broke away to look at him, her brown eyes a little dazed, he realised that this was as intimate as they'd ever been. She was pressed close against him, and for the first time they were not in even a semi-public place. At least...

"How likely are your parents to walk in on us at any minute?" he murmured.

She laughed. "They're not. They won't be back until late."

"Oh. Good." He twisted a stray piece of her hair around his fingers, enjoying how comfortable this felt. It felt easy and normal, and he liked that.

"You know, I never finished showing you the rest of the house," she said. "You haven't been upstairs."

"Um, no," he agreed, tilting his head in puzzlement as he looked at her. He would really much rather stay here and continue with this than go on a tour, and he would have hoped she'd feel the same way. "Did you want to show me it right now?"

She sighed. "James, I'm asking if you want to move this to my bedroom. You don't have to say yes, but…"

"Oh." James's brain did some very rapid catching up and adjusting. " _Oh_." Of course, she might not mean what it sounded like she meant, but she definitely meant _something_ , and either way he wanted to find out what it was. He smiled at her. "In that case, yeah, I'd love to see the rest of your house. Start the tour any time."


	9. The Potters

Hazel had really never planned to fall for James Potter. In fact, at one point, she had planned very specifically _not_ to fall for him. But the trouble was, you couldn't choose that kind of thing, could you? And now it had happened, she wouldn't choose _not_ to love him. She just wished it would make her life a bit less complicated.

Neither had she _exactly_ planned to sleep with him on Monday night, although it had crossed her mind as a possibility as soon as her parents had told her they were going out. It was something that had crossed her mind more than once in the last few weeks, but she'd been nervous, and it had just never felt quite right. But then that evening, it _had_ felt right. She'd finally felt sure of what she wanted, and for better or worse, what she wanted was James.

" _Finally_ ," was Anna's laughing response, when the two of them were lounging around in Anna's bedroom on Tuesday evening. "You made him wait long enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hazel folded her arms, feeling a little defensive.

"Nothing." Anna moved from a chair to the bed beside Hazel. "Sorry, I was only joking. You waited until you were ready, which is the right thing to do. And it's not like it's really been that long – you were barely going out last summer, so it really only counts from January."

But Hazel frowned. It was too close to some of the worries that had already occurred to her.

"D'you think he'd have thought it was weird that I'd never had sex before? I mean, I'm eighteen…"

"Only just eighteen. And that's not weird. Loads of people haven't had sex before they're eighteen. Plus, you've been on and off with James for most of the last year, and it's not like you bounced straight out of another relationship into one with him. What I'm saying is, unless you were sleeping with someone and seeing James at the same time, you'd have had to be, like, sixteen. And even more people haven't had sex when they're sixteen. Anyway, I really doubt he minded one way or the other. Not like he objected, is it? At least, I assume he didn't."

"No." Hazel felt her cheeks burning.

"So." Anna looked at her expectantly. "Was it _good_?"

"Oh my god. I'm not answering this sort of question. I don't ask what you and Matt do in bed!"

"I didn't ask what you _did._ I only asked if you liked your first time!"

"Okay, fine, yes it was good, and that's literally all I'm saying."

In fact, it had been a little mixed, but mostly good, and she didn't regret it. And James had very obviously known what he was doing, which had, she imagined, made it better than it would have been if both have them had been clueless. It had also made her very self-conscious about her own lack of experience, though.

"Okay, okay." Anna grinned at her. "Well, I just hope you kids used protection!"

Hazel rolled her eyes. "Of course we did." Apparently – and somewhat disconcertingly – witches and wizards had different methods of contraception. It undeniably made that side of things simpler, but she had made him swear several times that he knew it was effective before she'd trusted it.

"Well then," Anna said. "Nothing to worry about then, is there?"

 _Nothing_ was not quite the word she'd have used, Hazel thought the following week, as she tried to decide what outfit was more appropriate for a first dinner at her boyfriend's parents' house. Maybe, considering how she was feeling now, she'd been a bit unsympathetic to James about coming to her party – but then again, he hadn't seemed nervous, which had been part of the problem.

It wasn't that she was expecting it to be a terrible ordeal. James kept talking as if nobody would ever want to meet his family, but the few members of it that she'd met had seemed pefectly nice. And he was very sure they were going to like her, so Hazel could only trust him on that.

But his parents were an adult witch and wizard, and what was more, they were important people in their world. She'd met his dad, and while it was true that she'd liked Mr Potter – he'd been the one, after all, who had stopped them removing all her memories of the wizarding world – he was still somewhat intimidating. He was the sort of person who gave orders and expected to have them followed, and as well as all that, Hazel knew the story of the Wizarding War. Not closely, but Scorpius had told her the basics, and she'd known who Harry Potter was before she ever met James. And his mum was some sort of war hero in her own right, as well as apparently having been a professional Quidditch player for a well-known team, which, given that Quidditch seemed to be their only sport, Hazel imagined must be a bit like being a Premier League footballer. She couldn't really imagine what it must be like to be the child of parents like that, and the thought of sitting and having dinner with them all was unnerving.

By the time James texted her to tell her that he was on his way, she'd decided on a floral day dress with leggings and boots, since it still wasn't very warm. He was starting to get the hang of texting, she thought with a smile, as she looked down at it. Then again 'on my way now, see you in a bit' was about the simplest text you could send. He still struggled with autocorrect, not helped by the fact that his phone didn't recognise most magical terms, but since he'd been sending her texts every day since he'd got the phone, she was at least able to translate most of them correctly.

"Okay, I'm going to meet James," she said, as she passed through the living room on the way out. "See you later!"

She wished she could have told her mum and dad that she was going to dinner with James's parents, but instead they were under the impression that she was going to a restaurant in Lancaster. Telling them that she was going to Devon for the evening would have taken some explaining.

"Have fun!" her mum said cheerfully. "Say hello to him from us!"

Hazel rolled her eyes. "Right. Bye then."

She let the door fall closed behind her, and glanced at her phone. Nothing from James, but he was probably waiting for her; Apparition only took seconds. She set off for the park.

* * *

"I've never done this before," she confessed to him a short time later, as she gripped his arm and prepared to Apparate.

He glanced down at her. "Well, I'm assuming you mean having dinner with my parents, seeing as I know you've done Side-Along Apparition plenty of times…"

"Having dinner with _anyone's_ parents," she clarified. "I mean, someone I'm going out with."

"Well, neither have I," he said with a grin. "I mean, I've never taken anyone to meet my parents before. Mum got a bit excited when I told her, but she's promised to save the baby photos for at least the second time she meets you."

Hazel laughed. One of the nice things about James was how good he was at making you feel less nervous about things. He'd been good at that last Monday too, she thought, her cheeks growing slightly warm at the memory. They had met up once since then, at the weekend, but they hadn't really discussed it beyond him checking – again, since he'd already done it by text – that she was still okay about it. She wasn't sure if that was normal or not, and she'd have sort of liked to say something, but she wasn't sure what to say.

"Maybe I want to see your baby photos," she said instead, with a grin, to save her thoughts going in that direction at what seemed like an inappropriate moment.

"Well, there's at least one up around the house, so you won't be completely disappointed. Anyway, should we go? I'm, er, going to take us straight into the house, just so you know – otherwise we'd have to arrive miles away and walk, because they live in a Muggle area. They know we're coming and everything."

She nodded. "Okay. Do they… I mean, what have you told them about me?"

"Well, not much," he said. "They didn't know you existed until I asked if we could come over."

He was looking slightly sheepish, and she guessed what that might mean.

"Do they know I'm not a witch?"

"Well, um, no, not exactly. I mean, they won't care, so it didn't seem like it mattered."

He sounded uncomfortable. Hazel raised her eyebrows, unconvinced, and he sighed.

"If I told them that, they were going to ask a million questions about who you were and how we met, and honestly, I didn't want to go into it. It's not about the fact that you're not a witch, it's… it's all the other stuff."

Hazel was silent for a moment. By 'other stuff,' she could only assume he meant her friendship with Scorpius. And that hurt a little bit, but then again, she reminded herself, she had basically lied to her parents by letting them believe that James and Scorpius were friends, because that was just easier than any other explanation. She'd lied to them about a lot of other things as well, of course, but she could understand why James had done it.

"Well, I suppose that'll be a surprise for them then," was all she said, trying to sound light about it.

A few moments later, she was opening her eyes to find herself standing in a very normal-seeming living room. She was glad he'd warned her, because there was a red-haired woman also standing in the room, beaming at them. Slightly startled, Hazel gaped at her for a moment, then produced a smile from somewhere.

"Hello!" the woman said, coming towards them with her hand outstretched. "You must be Hazel! I'm Ginny – it's lovely to meet you."

Hazel shook hands, trying not to feel overwhelmed. "Hi. It's nice to meet you too."

She watched as Ginny Potter hugged James. Aside from the hair colour and the fact that James was taller, they were quite alike. Their smiles were the same, Hazel thought.

"Have a seat, Hazel," Ginny said, waving at the sofa. "Dinner'll be about fifteen minutes. Would you like a drink of anything? We have both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Harry!" she called, raising her voice. "James and Hazel are here!"

Hazel, who had obediently perched on the edge of the sofa, looked at James helplessly. She had experienced just how different drinks could be in the magical world, and she didn't know what to ask for. He gave her a reassuring smile, turned to a cabinet in the corner, and opened it.

"There's wine if you want it," he said, pulling out a bottle and holding it up for her to view. "Butterbeer, if you'd rather go for non-alcohol. And I expect there's Muggle beer and various juices in the fridge."

Hazel had had butterbeer already, so was relieved to find that the choices were relatively normal. Or at least, there were normal options among them – she could see various other bottles in the cabinet that James had not mentioned, and which she didn't recognise.

However, before she could choose, the door to the room opened, and she looked up to find a man with dark hair and glasses standing there. She knew who he was, and would have done even if circumstances hadn't made it obvious, because she had seen him before. And in the second before he spoke, as he looked at her with startled recognition dawning on his face, she realised the other awkward part of James having failed to tell his parents exactly who she was.

His surprise gave way almost immediately to amusement.

"Well," he said. "My own fault. I should have recognised the name. You really do manage to turn up everywhere, don't you?"

Hazel could feel her face turning warm, and hoped she wasn't going red, although she found that she too wanted to laugh. He didn't look displeased, only bemused.

"Well, I've been trying to infiltrate the Wizarding World for years," she said, the start of a smile curling her mouth. "I guess I'm busted now though."

He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Well, it's nice to meet you properly, Hazel." He strolled into the room and sat down on one of the armchairs. "How are you? James, are you seeing to drinks? I'll have a glass of red, please. Though serve your guest first."

James, who had been staring from one of them to the other, with a faintly horrified look on his face, blinked at his father.

"Shit. I forgot you'd already met."

"Anyone want to tell me what on earth's going on?" Ginny asked. "Hazel, I take it you've already met my husband, then?"

"Um, yeah. At Hogwarts last year," Hazel said. "I didn't know if you'd really remember me though."

He smiled at her, a slightly strange expression on his face.

"Oh, I remember you. Ginny, remember last year, when Jamie got his leg crushed in a landslide, and was only stopped from bleeding to death by the very quick first aid work of a girl who was trapped with him?"

"Well, yes, of course I do," Ginny said, looking like she didn't particularly want to bring that memory to mind.

"Well." Harry gestured at Hazel. "This is the girl."

Ginny Potter stared first at Harry, and then at Hazel. This time, Hazel was quite sure her face was on fire.

"What?" Ginny said. "You mean you're the…" She looked at Hazel as if seeing her for the first time. "That was you?"

Hazel floundered, not sure what to say. It had made her uncomfortable from the beginning, the way everyone had talked as if she'd done something dramatic and heroic, instead of the only thing she could possibly have done.

"Yeah, that was Hazel." James spoke for her, after a small pause.

Ginny moved to the sofa and sat down beside Hazel. "I wanted to meet you," she said. "But I didn't think I could. I wanted to…" She moved a hand towards Hazel's shoulder and then stopped. "May I?"

Hazel understood what was being asked, and although she was feeling unbelievably awkward, she nodded. The next moment Ginny Potter had swept her into a hard, fierce hug.

"Thank you," Ginny whispered in her ear.

And at that small gesture, Hazel wasn't embarrassed any more. Over the last year, she had done her best to forget that horrible night, but now it came flooding into her head in clear detail. The cold dark space under the ruins of a shed that could come crashing down on top of them at any moment, and a boy lying in a pool of his own blood, deathly pale and only half conscious. He'd been a stranger then, someone she knew by reputation and wasn't particularly prepared to like.

Now he was _James_ , and he could have died that night. If he had, Hazel wouldn't ever have known what she'd lost, but his mother would. In the sudden rush of emotion that went through her, she felt that she understood perhaps a little of what Ginny Potter must feel about it.

"All right, Mum." James sounded at least as embarrassed as Hazel had felt a moment ago. "Calm down."

Ginny pulled back, and Hazel thought she might have tears in eyes, but she glared at James.

"I'll _calm down_ when you stop getting yourself into life-threatening situations, James Sirius Potter."

Hazel didn't get the impression that Ginny was actually annoyed, and neither did James apparently, because he grinned.

"As opposed to you and Dad, because neither of you had ever been in a single life-threatening situation when you were my age."

"You know, I have to ask," Harry broke in. "Were you two already, er, together by that night?"

"Oh, no, we weren't going out," Hazel said hurriedly. "That was the first night we met."

"Ah, good." Harry laughed. "I'm glad I wasn't just being completely oblivious. That would have been awkward. By the way, James, were you actually going to pour any drinks, or just stand there with the bottle in your hand?"

The Potters weren't quite as Hazel had imagined them, she thought about ten minutes later, as they took their seats around the dining table. Not completely different, because she had imagined they'd be nice, and they were. But Harry Potter wasn't at all as serious or stern as he'd appeared when she'd met him the previous year. She supposed James had been right when he said his dad wasn't the same at home as when he was doing his job, which she also supposed was normal, especially when your job was important and high-ranking. But here, Harry and Ginny were friendly and relaxed, and they all teased and joked with each other just like any family.

In other ways, they were like no other family she had ever met. Hazel watched with fascination as Harry casually levitated dishes from the kitchen to the table. He caught her looking.

"This must all be pretty odd for you," he said to her. "Or maybe it's not. How old were you when you found out about the magical world again?"

"Six," Hazel said. "But I never really saw any magic. Only really small things."

"Well, you probably had an easier time accepting it than I did at eleven," Harry said.

She stared at him, confused.

"Eleven?"

"Oh, James hasn't told you about my family history? I was brought up by my aunt and uncle, who are Muggles – that is, they're non-magical. I had no idea the Wizarding World existed until my eleventh birthday."

Although James had mentioned a non-magical aunt and uncle of his father's, this part of the story was entirely new to Hazel, and she was somewhat taken aback. She'd never imagined that James was as closely connected to the normal world as he really was.

"No, I didn't realise," she said. She couldn't help wondering why Harry had been brought up by an aunt and uncle, but it wasn't exactly something she could ask.

"So, what exactly _have_ you seen of our world?" Ginny asked. "I mean, Harry mentioned that you'd signed the Statute of Secrecy last year. And while that doesn't necessarily mean you have official permission to be anywhere you want, I imagine James has shown you the odd thing."

Hazel glanced at James. She wasn't entirely sure how many of the places they'd been were actually allowed, and she didn't want to get him into any trouble.

"Oh, come on," James said. "She's signed the Statute. What other permission does she need?"

"It's a good thing Hermione isn't here to hear you say that." Ginny laughed. "I take it you have explored the Wizarding World, then?"

"We've been to Hogsmeade, and a few other places. We went to the Bowtruckle," James said. "But we haven't done Diagon Alley yet. We're going to, soon."

"What I'd like to know," Harry said with a smile, "is how much of _your_ world James has seen, Hazel?"

Hazel glanced again at James, her eyes dancing. He looked like he was biting back a laugh, but he gave her something of a pleading look. Not that he needed to worry. She wasn't about to launch into the story of their slightly drunken argument at her birthday party.

"Well, we've been to a coffee place near where I live," she said, looking back at his dad. "And to my house, but that's about it."

Harry laughed. "I expect it's at least as much of a culture shock for him as any of our world is for you. You know, believe it or not, I did try my best to let my children see the Muggle world when they were younger. We used to visit my cousin, and I'd take them out and about. He's even been on the tube, though I doubt he remembers that, do you, Jamie? I let it slip a bit after they were at Hogwarts, though. It's far too easy just to wrap yourself entirely in the magical world and forget that anything else exists."

"I do remember that!" James protested. "Some of it anyway. I remember going on a Muggle train. And hey, didn't you take me and Al to watch a film somewhere once? I've only just remembered. It was in this place with a giant screen."

"A cinema?" Hazel asked, amused.

"Is that what they're called? Anyway, that was good fun."

"Well, we can go to one if you want. They have them in most towns."

"And James'll probably be less likely, these days, to accidentally vanish the seats of the people in front of him when something in the film gives him a fright," Harry remarked.

Hazel giggled, and James scowled at his father.

"Hey, that could have been Al's fault just as easily as mine. And you agreed no embarrassing stories."

"So, Hazel," Ginny broke in. "Have you just left school as well? I'm afraid I don't know much about how it works outside the magical world," she added, apologetically. "Unlike Harry, I grew up in a Wizarding family."

"No, I'm in my last year at school, so I'm nearly finished. I think it works more or less the same, though. I've just turned eighteen, so I'd have been the year below James. And I'm doing exams, the same as they do at Hogwarts – they start in a few weeks. Just the subjects are a bit different."

"Any plans for afterwards?" Harry asked.

"University," Hazel said. "I've got a place at UCL – that's in London – to do Geography, so long as I get the grades."

"Which you will," James said. "You work way harder than I ever did."

She gave him a smile. She knew she _ought_ to get the grades, and she knew she _could_ , but exams were always nerve-wracking. She appreciated his confidence in her, though.

"You don't really have universities, do you?" she asked. Scorpius had talked about it a bit, but apart from knowing there were no magical universities, Hazel hadn't thought about it much. But they had teachers and doctors – well, healers – and people like that, which seemed a bit odd if they had nowhere to train.

"Not really," Harry agreed. "Our training schemes are more what you might call apprenticeships or internships. For example, in the Auror department, we run our own training, and so does St Mungo's – that's the hospital. The Ministry runs teacher training courses these days, although when I was at school, it was just a matter of showing that you understood your subject well enough. And you can get an entry level job at the Ministry with a decent set of NEWTs, which is what James has done, of course."

For the rest of the meal, they talked about education systems, and different magical careers, and Hazel found it fascinating to realise how similar and yet how different they were. That seemed to be the case for the whole magical world, really. Similar in some unexpected ways, but entirely alien in others. Scorpius had told her all about Hogwarts and the different subjects and exams there, but he hadn't talked much about further training or how the Ministry worked – quite possibly because he didn't know very much about it. And James mostly just groaned and changed the subject when the Ministry came up in conversation. The Potters, though, knew it all, and as Ginny talked about how things were run at the _Daily Prophet_ too, Hazel found herself promised a visit to their offices if she wanted one.

"And have you seen a Quidditch match yet?" Ginny asked eventually.

"No," Hazel said, and looked at James with a grin. "I have been on a broom though."

"Oh, really?" Ginny raised her eyebrows, casting a doubtful look at James.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I was careful. You know I can fly safely."

"Yes, I know." She relented. "In fact, I know you can fly more than safely." She looked at Hazel. "He's very good, really. I keep trying to tell him he's wasting his talent…"

"Yeah, thanks, Mum," James interrupted. "Can we, y'know, not get into that?"

"Alright, alright," she agreed. "Well, anyway, if you ever want to go to a match, I can probably get you tickets, especially if it's a Harpies game. Let me know."

* * *

It was dark outside by the time James and Hazel Apparated back to Mirlton.

"That was really nice," she said, as they strolled slowly towards her house, his arm still round her waist from the Apparition. "Your parents are lovely. I never realised your dad had grown up in my world."

"No, well I sometimes forget too," he said. "He doesn't talk about it much, because he didn't have a very good time when he was a kid."

Hazel was silent for a moment. She could ask James what had happened, but it seemed a bit nosy, and it wasn't really his story to tell anyway.

"And I don't think they hated me," she said eventually, glancing up at him.

He laughed. "They loved you. I'm pretty sure you made a better impression on them than I did on your parents."

"My parents liked you too," she protested. "You just didn't get a chance to talk to them much. You'll have to come round when they're in some time."

"Yeah, I will. And you'll have to come to mine some time as well. As in my own place, not Mum and Dad's. It's kind of stupid that you haven't been there yet. It's a bit messy and full of people, but it's not too bad. Fenella makes sure we all do our share of cleaning." He paused for a short moment. "If you can swing it with your parents, you can stay over. I mean, if you wanted to, obviously."

Hazel was glad it was dark, because she could feel her face getting warm, and she wished it wouldn't. She wished she could just be normal and non-awkward about it.

"They'll be fine as long as they know where I am – or as long as they think they know where I am." Not that she thought they'd _stop_ her even if she told them where she was going, because she was eighteen years old, for goodness' sake, but explaining it to them would be awkward in more ways than one. "And I'd be fine with it too," she added.

She wasn't looking at him, but she caught the movement of his head as his eyes turned down towards her.

"There's no pressure," he said.

"I know." Hazel stopped walking and turned to face him, both her arms wrapped around him. It was stupid to be uncomfortable with talking about it - she just had to be honest with him. "You've never pressured me. I _want_ to stay the night with you. And I'm glad we slept together last week."

He laughed, and kissed her, and she could hear the relief in his voice.

"Good. So am I. I would've hated it if you'd been regretting it though." He took a deep breath. "I love you, you know that, right? I'm shit at talking about this stuff, or I'd have said it before, because it's been true for a while, but… yeah," he finished, as if he didn't know how to go on.

She could feel that he'd tensed up and that his heart was beating faster, and if she hadn't already known the answer to his unspoken question, his nervousness would have given her it. She leaned in closer to him.

"Well, honestly, I think you're probably better at talking about it than me. But I love you too."

She was smiling like an idiot, and half wanted to bury her face in his chest to hide it. She'd never told anyone that, not in a romantic way. Then again, she wasn't sure he had either, from the things he'd said. He bent his head and kissed her, and for several moments, neither of them spoke.

"James," she said, when they finally broke for air.

"Yeah?"

"After we've finished our exams, me and my friends are going on a trip to celebrate. We've been planning it since last year. Just here, in the UK," she added. "We're going to drive, and stay in a hostel, and I wondered…" She hesitated, then went on. "I wondered if you wanted to come. It would be really great if you did."

She hoped he understood. She wished she was better at romantic stuff, but inviting him on this trip said all kinds of things without saying them, like how much she wanted him to be part of her normal life and her group of friends, and how much she wanted to spend more time with him.

"Oh." He sounded disconcerted. "Well, that sounds great, and I'd like to come. Seriously. When is it, though? I'll have to see if I can get time off work. And won't the others mind me crashing the celebration?"

"It's a long weekend at the end of June – we'll all have finished by then. And of course they won't mind. Will you come, then? If you can? You'd only need to get the Friday and the Monday off – or you could just join us for part of it, if you can't."

He hesitated for a just a moment, and she waited. She didn't want to pressure him either. It must be daunting, after what had happened when he spent a single evening with her friends, and this was five whole days. She was nervous about the prospect herself. But she had to give him another chance, and this was it. He'd been trying so hard for the last week.

"Okay," he said at last. "Yeah. If I can get time off, I'll come."

"Great!" she said genuinely. "I hope you can."

Slowly they began walking towards her home again, and another thought came into her head.

"Hey, James?"

He looked at her. "What?"

"You know, earlier... _What_ did your mum say your middle name is? Please tell me you're not actually called James Serious."

* * *

 **A/N: Editing this, because I forgot to mention: I now have a Tumblr blog dedicated to the writing on this account. It's brand new and not very exciting (yet?) but if you read my stuff and like it, I'd love it if you also found me there. Feel free to also message me there if you want - the url is aebbeswriting.**

 **Might as well take this moment also to say that I really appreciate anyone who takes the time to leave a review, whether it's a single word or five paragraphs! It lets me know people are continuing to read it, which is what also keeps me continuing to write it. So if you've even slightly enjoyed it, please please leave a comment if you have a moment!**


	10. Notice to Quit

**I'm SO SORRY for the long wait - I swore I wouldn't leave it that long again, but here we are. Hopefully back to regular updates from now on!**

 **PS - another little reminder, I started a tumblr for my fanfic writing, so please do come and find me - the url is aebbeswriting. It's only got some links to my fics on at the moment, and I'm not sure what I plan to do with it, but it's there if anyone wants to say hi or ask any questions or anything!**

 **This chap is for Vicky, for keeping nagging me to write, and for loving these ridiculous kids. ;)**

* * *

The week, James found, dragged interminably. Hazel was back at school, and had exams coming up so she was mostly busy studying in the evenings. Work was just a daily drudge to get through somehow. He fantasised - as he had for months - about quitting, but that would be the irresponsible thing to do, wouldn't it? And he wasn't going to be irresponsible any more.

The trouble was, being responsible was no fun. He missed the old days at Hogwarts, when he'd never thought about responsibility - except when it came to the Quidditch team, but that was different.

He cracked on Thursday night. Louis and Annabel - neither of whom was working the following day - persuaded him to come out, 'just for a drink or two'. James stumbled into bed at 3am, and when his alarm went off five hours later, managed to find his wand, point it at the clock and silence it, all without really waking up. By the time he lifted his throbbing head out of his pillows, it was nearly nine, and he had not a chance of being on time.

After hauling his clothes on, and managing - with difficulty - not to throw up while cleaning his teeth, he finally arrived at the office clutching a cup of black coffee as if it was his only lifeline, and slumped into his chair.

"Late night?" April Gowan, the young woman who occupied the desk opposite his – the other half of his own desk, really – asked sympathetically.

"Or early morning." James sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing his pounding headache would ease.

"Well, I hate to make your morning even worse, but Price was looking for you," she said. "He, um, didn't sound very pleased."

Mr Price, Senior Department Member and James's direct manager, was rarely pleased with him. James sighed again, but before he could speak, a door opened behind him.

"Ah, Potter. I was beginning to think you weren't going to bother coming in today," Price's voice said.

"Sorry, sir," James said, twisting round and then immediately wishing he hadn't moved so quickly. He swallowed and paused while the nausea passed. "I, uhh. I slept in. Won't happen again."

"It's happened four times in the last fortnight, Potter. And if it was just five minutes here and there, I might overlook it, but you should have been here twenty five minutes ago. And I don't need to ask _why_ you slept in - you look like a wreck. I want to talk to you. Get in here."

It filtered through the fog in his mind that Price sounded angrier than he usually did about James's lateness. It was true that lately, he had let his attempts at time-keeping slip quite badly. He thought it was the first time he'd ever been more than about ten minutes late, though.

He put his coffee down and stood up to follow Price into his own office. The door slammed shut behind him, and James glanced uneasily at it. He was no stranger to being in trouble - he'd spent half his school years in detention - and he'd got pretty good at judging when things were serious and when they weren't. This was edging uncomfortably towards serious.

"Sit down," Price said.

James did as he was told. Should he say something, or would that only annoy Price more? His brain wasn't working quickly enough to produce the sort of disarming, apologetic phrases that had got him out of trouble in the past. And he wasn't sure he cared enough either.

The silence stretched a little too long.

"This isn't good enough, you know, Potter," Price said grimly.

"I know, sir. I'm sorry," James repeated. If he just agreed with everything, it would be over quickly, and he could go back to his coffee and whatever mind-numbing tasks he had waiting for him.

"Yes, well, you may be sorry, but I'm not interested in just hearing the right words over and over again. Every time, you give me _sorry,_ and tell me it's the last time. And I've had enough of your empty promises – I want to see changes, Potter. You put in zero effort around here, and expect me to accept all your apologies and keep paying your wages. Well, if I'm going to do that, I want to see some sign that you actually care about this job and this department. You can't just swim through life relying on your famous name and your family connections, you know."

The final sentence brought James up with a cold, sharp shock. It was not what he'd expected, and it hit straight at somewhere vulnerable deep inside him. His headwas clearing, and the sickness was no longer entirely that of a hangover. His defences rallied, and anger rose up. What the hell did Price know? Did he think that if James wanted to make the most of _family connections,_ that this was the best he'd be able to do?

"You know what?" he said at last, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Actually, I probably _could_ swim through life relying on that, if I wanted to. But here I am, filing reports on imported dried frogspawn instead. You think I'm here because this is what I _want_ to be doing?"

He had a moment of deep satisfaction at the way Price's eyes bulged with shock and fury, before the more rational part of his mind surfaced. Price was his _boss_. What the hell was he doing?

"So," Price said, sounding as if he was struggling not to lose his own temper, "that's how you see the job, is it? Well, I think it's about time you grew up, Potter. I offered you this job because your uncle put in a good word for you, and I thought that being whose son you are, you'd have a bit of dedication. You're here because of those family connections, whether you know it or not – and maybe I should have employed someone without your advantages, who might have appreciated the opportunity a bit more. I've given you chance after chance, Potter, but I won't tolerate that kind of arrogance and rudeness…"

It was the _'being whose son you are_ ' that did it. James stood up, his chair shooting backwards. He was on his feet before he'd even decided to move, and then the words were spilling out, regardless of that small voice of reason screaming in the back of his mind.

"All right then, don't tolerate it," he said. "If that's the only reason I'm here, I don't want it. Give the _opportunity_ to someone else. I'm out of here. I quit. I'll clear my desk right now."

He wasn't sure whether Price had been going to fire him or not, but he wasn't going to give him the chance. He'd hated the job since the start, but he'd stuck with it. Stuck with it in a way he hadn't ever stuck with something he hated before, because he'd stubbornly clung to the fact that at least he was here on his own merit. He'd got this job by himself. Except he hadn't. He was disgusted with it all, with the job, with Price, with himself and his bloody famous family. And he knew he couldn't stay here a day longer.

Price spluttered at him in outrage, something about notice periods and irresponsible attitudes, but James was hardly listening. Now the decision was made, an unexpected calm came over him.

"I got paid a week ago," he broke in. "So you can keep my wages for the week, and then there's nothing keeping me here. You want written notice, I'll write it now. And then I'm finished."

He didn't listen to Price's beratements. Somewhere, in a distant part of his brain, he knew he was behaving stupidly, but this was what they'd all told him to do, wasn't it? Quit his job. Do something else. Well he'd done the first part, although he had no idea what he was going to do next.

He walked out of Price's office, scribbled his notice ( _'with immediate effect'_ ) on a piece of parchment, and picked up his few things in a trance of remaining anger and a sort of euphoria at the thought that he was leaving and wouldn't be coming back. He was even smiling as he said goodbye to April, who stared at him open-mouthed.

The bubble didn't burst until he stepped out of the Ministry onto a sunny London street, and wondered where he was going to go.

He could just go home, but Louis and Annabel would be there, probably only just getting up, and he didn't really feel like explaining to them what had just happened – not yet. He needed a bit more time before he could turn it into a funny story. It was only just sinking in, and didn't seem very funny at all. Had he really just had a full-on argument with Ian Price – who, apart from anything else, was one of Uncle Percy's closest colleagues – and quit his job, with no new one on the horizon?

For some of the same reasons, he didn't want to have to tell his parents quite yet, although the Ministry being what it was (and his family being what it was too), Dad would probably have heard by about lunchtime, unless by some lucky chance he was out of the office. But the thought of trying to explain to them, or repeat any of the conversation with Price, wasn't pleasant. Not because they'd be angry but because they'd be worried.

There was only one person he could really stand the thought of being around right now, he realised. But it was Friday morning, and she was at school. He stood on the pavement for a few moments, looking around him. The people on the street were all Muggles, going about their business. None of them knew who he was or what had just happened, and none of them cared either.

His feet had automatically turned towards quieter streets where he could find a place to Apparate, but he change his mind, and went the other way instead. Towards a busier road, where people and cars crowded up and down. There was a coffee shop on the corner, and he pushed the door open and entered.

It was weird to be somewhere like this without Hazel, but it was a relief. Nobody here would recognise him. Nobody would try to talk to him, or even give him a second glance. And, thanks to the time he'd spent with Hazel, he didn't feel like a complete fish out of water.

The sickness had worn off, and he was starving. He successfully ordered and paid for a coffee and some sort of pastry, and found a free table by the window. It was noisy in the café, with the buzz of conversation, clatter of cups and cutlery, and low music playing in the background. James took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on – he didn't bother with it at work, because it was no use there. While he waited for it to warm up, he stirred his coffee and took a mouthful of pastry, trying to process things.

He'd spent the last six months or more hating his job and complaining about it, but at least it had been safe and steady. It had paid his rent and his bills, without needing any help from his parents. When he'd got up that morning, he'd had no thought of quitting – he'd just been glad it was almost the weekend.

Now he had no job. He'd known for a while that he probably wouldn't stay with the Ministry. Everyone from his parents to Hazel had been encouraging him to look for something else, but he didn't think any of them would have imagined him just walking about with no alternative in sight. At least he hadn't actually been fired. Not that he thought Price would be writing him a glowing reference for any future job, so the technicalities didn't make that much difference.

And what was next? There were lots of different jobs. One of the pubs might hire him, and to be honest, he thought he'd prefer serving behind a bar to making tea in a Ministry office. It wasn't the work - it was the gut-clenching knowledge that everyone who walked in would know who he was. Would look at him and wonder what the hell Harry Potter's son was doing, working in a pub. He felt ashamed of himself for even thinking like that. He wasn't a snob - but the judgements would happen anyway, whatever he felt about the work himself. And he couldn't stand it. It was a new feeling, although it had been growing for the last few months. James had never been that bothered by being recognised; he hadn't minded the attention. Now he just craved a chance to start again, to make his way in a world where nobody knew how he was. Where there was no uncle to put in a good word, where nobody had any expectations based on his last name.

Trying not to think about it, he wrote a text to Hazel. She'd be at school, but if she got a break, she might reply. And she'd shown him how to put his phone into silent mode, and said she kept hers like that all the time, so it wouldn't make a noise in her lesson.

 _Hey, are you free to meet up later?_

They hadn't arranged to meet, although he'd assumed they probably would at some point over the weekend. He didn't want to try to tell her what had happened in a text, but he didn't want to worry her either – she'd expect him to be at work right now, and she knew he couldn't text there – so after a moment's thought, he added:

 _Nothing major, don't worry if not. Love you_

His thumb hesitated over the send button, looking at the last two words. He was still self conscious about them, but when he'd said it last week, she'd said it back. And he didn't want her to think that the reason he wanted to meet so suddenly had anything to do with her. He hit the button, set the phone down and sipped his coffee. Opposite him, on the wall, a poster offered part time work. James gazed at it, the idea taking shape in his mind. Why the hell not? He'd said he was going to spend more time in Hazel's world. And he knew, at least, how to talk about phones and Facebook now.

He remembered what Lily had said. _I can't see you leaving your wand behind and living like a Muggle_. Well, screw that. Nobody thought he could do it - maybe he should prove them wrong.

Hazel texted back before he finished his pastry, and he didn't think he'd succeeded in not worrying her.

 _Are you okay? Aren't you at work? We can meet after school if you want_

A second later, another text appeared below the first:

 _Love you too x_

James hesitated again. He couldn't truthfully tell her that everything was fine, and being cryptic would probably just concern her more.

 _Not at work,_ he typed in the end. _I sort of quit. Tell you when I see you. Should I meet you at the park?_

Her reply came almost at once.

 _What?! Where are you? I'm in biology now, I've got a free lesson after break, come over then if you want? You know where the school is right?_

He did remember passing her school in Mirlton, although he wasn't sure what she had in mind. Presumably he wouldn't just be allowed to walk in, whether she had a free lesson or not. But he didn't really want to sit in this coffee shop until 3.30.

 _Yeah, I know where it is,_ he sent back. _Where can we meet?_

There was a several minute pause before she replied.

 _Just wait outside the gate. I'll be out after half ten. Got to go now_

He supposed there was only so long she could text under the desk, as she must have been doing. It was just after 10am, although it felt as if it ought to be later. It seemed ages ago that he had been dragging on his clothes at five past nine. His head still ached, and he wished he could have a nap before going to meet Hazel. The coffee had helped, but not enough.

He finished his drink slowly, and stood up to go. As he left, he paused by the counter. There was no harm in asking, after all.

"Hey," he said, when the girl serving looked up and caught his eye. "Um, I was just wondering. I saw the sign about a job..."

"Oh, yeah!" She smiled brightly. "If you're interested, just drop a CV in. Or if you want to know more about it, my manager'll be in tomorrow; just come by any time."

No funny looks, no questions. He was just another stranger, and she thought it was completely normal that he'd be interested in the job.

"Right, thanks," he said, smiling back. "I might do."

He had a CV; he'd used it to apply for the job at the Ministry. It occurred to him, as he left the coffee shop, that it might not be the sort of CV they'd be interested in. It was written on parchment, and his qualifications were not ones they'd recognise. But OWLs and NEWTs had Muggle equivalents, didn't they? Hazel was doing A-Levels, which were basically the same as NEWTs. He could just write A-Level instead. But he'd have to change the subjects too. And then he'd just be telling lies.

He waited for Hazel outside the gates of the school, wondering if he ought to text and tell her he was there. Inside, a distant bell rang – presumably her lesson ending. The doors to the main building opened and kids poured out, all considerably younger than Hazel. He remembered her saying when they'd walked past that the Sixth Form block was separate, around the back, but he didn't know which direction she'd come from. None of the younger kids seemed to be coming out of the gates, just milling about on the yard, and it struck James how little he really knew about any school other than Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine going to school in the middle of a town.

She appeared at last, round the corner of the building, and headed for the gate. She spotted him about half way across and gave him a wave. James lifted his hand in return, and waited for her as she walked out of the gate.

"Are you allowed to do that?" he asked as she reached him, glancing behind her. A woman he assumed was a teacher was strolling around on the yard and must have seen Hazel leave, but didn't seem worried.

"Yeah, I'm in the sixth form. We can sign ourselves out in free lessons. I haven't got anything until after lunch now." She looked up at him, a puzzled look on her face. "James, what happened? Are you okay? You look…" She trailed off as her eyes scanned over him. "Like you just got dragged out of bed. Have you really quit your job?"

"Looks like it." He tried to make it sound light. "And I'm fine, mostly – just hungover. You didn't have to come out of school."

She didn't look fooled. "Well, it's fine – it's break time, then I have a free lesson, then lunch. How bad are you feeling? Have you eaten anything?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I'm okay – it's just a headache now."

"Okay, well let's walk," she said. "And you can tell me what the hell happened."

They strolled down the street, and he briefly told her the story. Parts of it still stung, and he wasn't sure he'd have been able to repeat Price's comments to anyone else. It wasn't long ago that he wouldn't have been able to repeat them to Hazel either, but something had shifted between them. She wasn't someone he had to show off for. He could be himself.

She listened without comment, except for the odd prompt when he paused. When he got to the end, he stopped and sighed.

"So basically, I lost it and massively fucked up."

She looked at him, a worried frown on her face.

"Well, maybe you did, but I don't think it was totally your fault. He shouldn't have said those things. I don't blame you for getting angry – though okay, maybe quitting then and there wasn't the best decision ever."

James shrugged. Saying it all out loud ought to have been a relief, but it had only served to convince him that it really had happened, and his heart was sinking even further.

"Why shouldn't he have said it, if it's true? He had every right to be angry with me too – and he's my boss. Well, he _was_ my boss."

She sighed. "Sure, he had the right to be annoyed with you for being late, I guess. But if he wanted to fire you, he could have just fired you – he didn't need to say all that. And if it _was_ true, it says more about him than it does about you."

James frowned at the ground as he walked, trying to work out exactly what she was saying. She was obviously just trying to make him feel better, and he wasn't sure if it was working, because on the one hand he didn't buy what she was saying, but on the other he was grateful that she was here, walking beside him and making the attempt.

"I'm serious," she went on, obviously seeing his reaction. "I mean, your dad was just telling me last week – you can get a basic job at the Ministry with a good set of NEWTs. He obviously thought yours were good enough, and I assume he knows what you got. It's not like you walked straight into some amazing, high-up job – no offence, but you were making tea, and doing the magical equivalent of photo-copying. So actually, you were totally qualified for the job, and if you messed it up it was only because you hated it."

"I s'pose," he said doubtfully. She had a point, but it didn't make much difference to the outcome of the situation. "My exam results still obviously didn't matter as much as my surname, though."

"Well, if that's true, that's not _your_ problem!" she said. "If that's how this Price guy chooses his employees, what does that say about him? He sounds like a shit boss. Not everyone's going to be like that. You can get a different job…"

"Can I?" He broke in. "Not in the Ministry – not once it gets round what happened. If anyone gives me another chance after that, it's going to be because of my family again, isn't it? And I can't see Price writing me a reference." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Sorry. I mean, you're right, and I hadn't thought about it like that. But I just fucking hate it all. I hate everyone thinking they know me just because they know who I am. I can never get away from it."

He felt naked having said it, because he never talked about it. In the last few years, he'd rarely even thought about it. It hadn't mattered at school, but it had always been there under the surface.

Her hand found his, lacing their fingers together. "I know. And I'm sorry, Jamie. I wish I could help, but I can't even imagine what it must be like."

He gave her a smile. "You are helping. You're listening." And she'd called him Jamie, the way his family did, which he thought was a first. He wasn't sure if she was aware she'd done it, but he liked it. "And when I'm with you, I feel like I've escaped for a while." He hesitated. "I was in a coffee place before - a Muggle one, I mean. They were advertising jobs. And I honestly wish I could apply. I could come and be in your world for a bit."

"I'm not sure that would solve your problems," she pointed out gently, "I mean, okay, nobody's going to have heard of you, but nobody's going to have heard of any of your qualifications either. And I'm not sure how you'd get on, given that you only recently figured out automatic doors."

"I know." He sighed. "It was just a stupid idea, but it seemed like a good one for a few seconds. I could find out more about your world, and I'd get to get away from it it all."

She squeezed his fingers. "James, I get it, you want to get away. And don't get me wrong, I _want_ you to get to know what it's like without magic. But you can't just run away. Not just because of this."

"Okay, okay, I know. I wasn't really serious." Except that part of him had been. Part of him had loved the idea. "I just… I've got to go and tell them I couldn't even hold down a shitty little job. I fucked it all up. As usual." He took a deep breath, because he'd never told her this part. "Last year, at school… I almost got myself expelled. I'd been Quidditch Captain, and they took it off me."

It still hurt. He'd missed the last game of the season, the last game of his school years, and the fact that the team – which he'd selected and trained – had won had been cold comfort.

"Yeah, I know," she said quietly.

He looked at her, and she was biting her lip.

"Right." He sighed. "Scorpius told you."

"Well, he got into trouble for it too. So it was sort of relevant. I also know you had a good reason to do what you did, though."

"Yeah, well. Mum and Dad were great about it really, because they always are, but they were still upset, obviously. It's like whatever I do, I end up disappointing them."

There was a pause, and she was obviously thinking of the right thing to say.

"Will they really be that disappointed?" she said at last. "I mean, they don't seem like the type to be bothered about you being successful just for the sake of it. I'd have thought they'd be more worried about whether you're happy or not."

And again, she was probably right, but he didn't see how his parents could help being disappointed by this. Disappointed _and_ worried.

"I don't know," was all he said, then added: "I just look so pathetic compared to what they were doing at my age."

"Well, their situation was totally different, wasn't it? James." She pulled him to a halt, and tugged him round to face her. "They're your mum and dad. They're going to be there for you. And if you really want to spend a bit less time in the magical world for a while, well, we can do that. It's probably a good time, if you're not going to be working again straight away. You don't have to run away to do it, though. You can just… take a break to work things out. It'll be okay."

He wasn't sure she was right, but as she pulled him down and kissed him, he almost believed it.


	11. A New Kind of Normal

**A/N: Shout out to my fab friend Alicia for lending her talents to help with this chapter, and for giving me one of Anna's lines in the process. Maybe one day she'll read this fic and find out what it actually was that she helped with. ;)**

* * *

Hazel opened her eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling for a moment, remembering where she was. James's house. In James's bed. With James's arm still lying across her stomach. Carefully, she slid it off, and rolled over.

He was still asleep, and she'd never seen him asleep before. Propped on her elbows, she looked at him, and tried to settle on a single emotion to feel, but failed. Waking up beside him was such a strange, intimate thing. Strangeness no longer scared her, though. The thought that this could last, that this was her life now, and she'd have to go on navigating it as best she could, was still a little breathtaking, but it seemed _possible_ in a way it hadn't quite before. When she thought about a future with James in it, something in her chest grew warm.

It was a week since he'd left his job. She'd been busy with final coursework in the evenings, though, and last weekend she had insisted he took the time to have a proper conversation with his parents instead of just escaping somewhere with her. What the conclusions of that conversation had been, she wasn't quite sure. She didn't think it had been disastrous, but he hadn't said much, and she hadn't wanted to pry. She was still worried about him, as much about his state of mind as about his jobless situation. Apart from anything else, James wasn't someone who liked to have nothing to do.

But the frown that had been on his face a bit too often in the last week had disappeared as he slept, and he looked peaceful and relaxed. His face was half-buried in the pillow as he lay on his front, sprawled there as if he'd been dropped face-first onto the bed. Her eyes moved over the muscles of his shoulders and back, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips. Yes, she liked waking up beside him.

She sat up and reached for her phone from the bedside table. It was ten am, but she supposed they'd gone to sleep quite late.

Somewhere outside his room, she heard voices, and someone laughed. Hazel froze. As far as she knew, his housemates didn't know she was here, since she and James had gone out to a normal, non-magical bar the night before, and hadn't come in until everyone else had already been asleep. And she doubted that they'd come barging in, but knowing they were just a room or two away made her acutely aware that she wasn't wearing anything.

As she cast her eyes around for her clothes, James made a sudden movement, and opened his eyes. For a moment, he looked sleepily at her, then he smiled.

"Morning."

"Morning," she said quietly. Her face burned, and her first instinct was to cross her arms over her chest. Stupid, because it was nothing he hadn't seen already.

He rolled over, his eyes lingering on her, and reached out a hand to brush her back lightly with his fingers.

"I could get used to mornings like this," he said.

Hazel felt her face getting even warmer, and wished she was better at knowing how to respond. His words – and maybe partly his touch too – made her feel like she was lighting up inside, but she didn't know how to express that.

"Me too," was all she said, giving him a small smile, then stopping as there was a clatter of something like dishes or pans somewhere else in the house. "Your housemates are up," she said.

"Yeah." He propped his arms behind his head and looked thoughtfully at her. "You want me to get up first?"

Hazel flopped back against the pillow, trying not to feel self-conscious. There was no need, after all.

"Maybe. If you don't mind."

"I could just Apparate you straight out of here, you know. If you'd rather not see them."

She turned her head to look at him.

"No, it's okay. I don't really mind. Anyway," she added with a stern frown, although her eyes were dancing, "I thought you were supposed to be getting used to doing things the normal way. You're not allowed to give up as soon as anything gets tricky."

He laughed. "True. Though what's with calling everything Muggle 'normal' – what are you trying to say about me? Am I _not_ normal?"

Hazel also laughed, although a small amount of guilt smote her. It was true, she did tend to use that word, and although he was joking, she supposed it was a bit of a rude way to talk about his entire life and culture – because that was what it was, really, a different culture. She shouldn't imply that it was abnormal just because it was different from what she was used to.

"I don't know what else to call it," she said honestly. "I hate the word _Muggle_."

He frowned. "Really? Why? I mean, it's not an insult or anything."

"I know you don't _mean_ it as an insult," she said, trying to explain. "But it's still a word _you've_ given us, isn't it? And it's kind of a stupid word. It sounds like… like a kids' cartoon character or something. It makes us sound like children. And, well, it goes with the whole attitude that we're just that not important. I don't just mean the people who actually don't like us – I mean the people who see us as weak and helpless and needing protection, and who think that you guys know more about what's best for us than we do. I met some of those last year."

He looked surprised, then thoughtful.

"Well," he said at last. "I never thought about it like that before, but if you don't like it, maybe we should just call it, I don't know, _magical_ and _non_ -magical. If that's any better?"

She smiled. He hadn't argued, or questioned what she said; he'd just accepted it as valid.

"It is better. And I'll try too, because you're right – it's not okay to call my stuff normal, as if yours isn't."

At that moment, there was a heavy bang at the door. Hazel jumped, with a squeak of alarm, and pulled the duvet up over her chest, although the door remained closed.

" _What_?" James called.

"Well, we can hear you talking in there." Louis's voice came through, sounding as if he was grinning. "So we know you're there – _both_ of you – and that you're awake. We're making fry-ups. Hurry up and you might get some."

* * *

They left the house on foot. It was their agreement: for the moment, when they were together, they would do things the normal – no, the _non-magical_ way. Now that he'd started, James seemed to have got into it, and was genuinely enthusiastic about the idea. Of course, he still had to use magic in his life at other times, and he would still Apparate to come and see her or pick her up, because otherwise they'd never be able to meet, but other than that, when they left the house he would leave his wand behind – or at least keep it stashed in a bag somewhere.

It was strange, Hazel thought, as they made their way to the nearest tube station, that they'd come round almost full circle. In the beginning, she'd told James she wanted him to stop hiding magic from her, to let her see it all. And now they were back to ignoring it. But it was different now – it wasn't because they were holding back from each other, it was the opposite of that. And it wasn't forever; it was just so he could learn what it was like.

The day was bright and warm, and at some point she would have to go home and shut herself away from the sunshine to work, but she could put that off until after lunch. Her parents thought she was at Anna's, so they wouldn't worry.

James, it turned out, had hardly seen any of the non-magical side of London. Hazel hadn't spent that much time there herself, coming from the north, but she couldn't imagine living there and not exploring more.

"How far is it to Hampstead Heath?" she'd asked, and he'd had no idea.

"I just Apparate out if I want to hang out in the country," he'd said sheepishly. "And I don't know how far anything is, because I never use the trains or anything."

Hazel had had to step outside to access the internet, as the magic in his house was too much for her 4G, but a quick search had shown her that it was a direct tube ride up to the heath, and she'd bullied him into agreeing to a picnic – not that he'd needed that much persuasion.

The tube station wasn't busy, being a relatively small station in the middle of the day.

"I'm going to get an Oyster card," she said as they entered. "I might as well, if I'm going to be living here in September. I won't bother asking if you've got one."

The bridge of James's nose always creased when he was confused. "I'm going to assume 'oyster' means something very different in this context," he said.

She refrained from rolling her eyes. "Yeah. It's a travel card. You put money on it, and it's cheaper than buying single-use tube tickets. We should get you one as well."

She bought her own, then stood close beside him as he struggled through purchasing one. He was getting better at buying stuff, though. He no longer had to study the money for quite so long to work out how much he had, although he still had to do everything in cash, since he didn't have a bank card. In some ways that made it easier, because he didn't need to worry about card machines or PINs.

"Great," she said with a grin, once they had the cards in their hands. "Now, watch what I do."

He made it through the gates, but stared in alarm as she took his hand and towed him towards the escalator. It was one of the long ones that seemed to descend forever, and he tugged back, resisting her slightly.

"Whoa, slow down!" he said. "How do you even get onto that thing? It's _moving._ "

She paused and laughed. "No way are you going to tell me you're scared of things moving at heights."

"I'm not scared of it." He grinned reluctantly. "I've just never used one before."

"You just step on," she told him. "Both feet on the same step."

He stumbled slightly, but she grabbed his arm to steady him, and he made it onto the escalator. He stared in fascination at the moving stairs beneath them.

"We have moving stairs at Hogwarts, but not like this. How does it work?"

"Electricity," she replied. "And don't ask me in any more detail than that, because I don't know."

The tube ride went without incident, and they strolled up the road and into the park. It was an entirely ordinary day, Hazel thought, looking around. A family on bikes, a couple of joggers, some kids kicking a ball, people with their dogs. None of them, looking at her and James, would see anything other than a normal young couple. Because that was all they were. The fact that James was a wizard didn't need to matter.

Their conversation stayed on trivial, light-hearted things. It wasn't until they had eaten the lunch they'd brought with them, and were sitting on the dry grass of the heath that Hazel looked over at him, wondering whether it would be a mistake to ask how things had gone with his parents, or whether he'd thought any more about what to do next. She didn't want to ruin things, or spoil his mood. He must have sensed her gaze, because he turned and met it, then sighed.

"You're going to make me think about it, aren't you?"

"Not if you don't want to," she said quickly. "I'm not going to push it."

He shrugged. "Well, there's not much to think about." He hesitated, and gave her a quick, sideways glance.

Hazel raised her eyebrows.

"Why do I feel like you're not telling me something?"

James sighed again. "It isn't anything really. I don't think I'm going to do anything about it."

"About what?"

"Well, this guy contacted me." He plucked a piece of grass, and twisted in in his fingers, frowning at it. "He's the Manager and Coach of Puddlemere United. They're a Quidditch team. Won the league last year. They're one of the best in the world, and he wants to give me a trial."

Hazel stared at him. This seemed like big news, and despite what she knew about his mixed feelings regarding a Quidditch career, she didn't quite understand why he wasn't a bit more excited or pleased.

"James! How come you didn't tell me before? Are you going to go for it?"

He looked miserable. "Probably not. Thing is," he went on bitterly, "this guy's an old friend of the family. He was Dad's first Quidditch Captain at school, and he's friends with half my uncles and aunts. And there's no way it's coincidence that he got in touch literally a few days after I lost my job. He's probably been talking to Mum and Dad, or Uncle George or someone. So it's just the same as before, isn't it?"

Hazel struggled for the right thing to say. She wanted to be understanding, she really did, but now it just seemed like he was shooting himself in the foot for the sake of his pride.

"Have you asked your mum and dad about it?" she said at last.

"No. I don't want to talk to them about it. It was bad enough last week. I mean, they're trying to be nice about it, but they just don't get it. They think I'm overreacting to it all, and they'd only tell me I should go ahead and do it."

"Well, honestly, I think they're right," she said bluntly. "Not about you overreacting – I don't mean that. But I think you should go ahead too! James, you're really good at Quidditch, everyone says so! Maybe he did hear you were out of a job – but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you on his team. He's obviously a pretty great manager, if they won the league. So he's not going to offer trials to people he doesn't really want, is he?"

He crushed the stem of grass in his hand, and threw it away. When he looked at her, his expression was stormy.

"Look, if he wanted me, he'd have given me a try last year. That's how it works. The teams send scouts to watch the Hogwarts games – that's how they recruit. And I got nothing, and you know why? Because I got kicked off the team. I was captain, and then I lost it because I couldn't keep my temper on the pitch. Nobody wants a liability, however good they are."

Hazel was silenced for a moment. She knew the story, although she hadn't realised it had affected James's chances at Quidditch – if it really had, and he wasn't just being paranoid. But she supposed it did make sense, and at least partly explained why someone who was supposed to be a brilliant player had ended up making tea in a Ministry office. Maybe if that hadn't happened, if he'd played his final game and been recruited by a team straight from Hogwarts, he would have accepted, and not got swamped with all these worries and insecurities. It still didn't change what she thought he should do, though.

"Jamie," she started, then paused, suddenly self-conscious at the realisation that she'd used his nickname without thinking.

He didn't seem to mind, though; he hadn't reacted, but he was looking at her, and she thought he was listening in a way he hadn't been a minute ago. She put a hand on his knee.

"Listen, you have to think about it. It's going to affect the rest of your life! I'm sorry – I always hate it when people say stuff like that to me, because normally it's bullshit. We've got years and years to make decisions and change our minds if we want to. But with this... James, if you don't do this now, are you going to get another chance? You have to think about what you really want. Think of it this way: If you could just leave aside all the stuff about your mum and dad, and things that happened in the past, is playing Quidditch professionally something you _want_ to do?"

For a moment, he didn't reply. He continued to look at her for a moment, then leant back on his arms and gazed at the sky.

"Yes."

He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to. She could hear the quiet, raw reality in his voice.

"Well, then," she said. "You've just got to forget your pride, and do it."

* * *

Some hours later, Hazel lay on Anna's bed, Biology revision in front of her, her mind half on her work and half on the conversation with James. Glancing up, she found Anna looking at her from the chair at the desk.

"You okay?" she asked, catching something odd in Anna's face.

"You know," Anna said without preamble, "I said it's fine to tell your parents you're at mine when you're with James, and it is. But if I'm going to cover for you, it'd be nice to actually know what's going on."

Hazel blinked at Anna in surprise. She wasn't sure what was happening, or what Anna meant, but she sounded on the edge of being annoyed.

"What d'you mean?" she said at last.

"Haze, we've been best friends since Year Seven. I know there's something you're not telling me."

"I _was_ at James's!" Hazel protested. "I don't know what else you…"

"At _James's_?" Anna's eyebrows shot up. "So where's that, then? Because I thought he lived in London, and you were seeing him at his cousin's in Lancaster."

"Oh. Well, yeah, that's what I meant."

God, this was a nightmare. She hated lying to Anna, and she desperately needed to deflect these questions before they strayed into areas she couldn't talk about. But Anna was already talking again.

"Only you didn't get off the bus you said you were getting. I saw you, Hazel. You were walking through town right after the bus got in, from completely the opposite direction. Anyway, James hasn't got a cousin in Lancaster, has he?"

Hazel's stomach dropped with an unpleasant shock at this.

"What… what d'you mean?" she asked again, and she could hear that this time her voice sounded shaky and uncertain.

"I asked him about his cousin at your party. And he covered for it pretty well, but it was obvious from his first reaction that he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. What the hell's going on with him, Hazel?" Anna sounded very serious, even worried. "He didn't even know anything about phones!"

The part about James's cousin was her fault, not his. She'd been so worried about her parents, she'd forgotten to tell him about the cover story she'd given Anna. But now she had literally no idea what to say. She didn't have a story prepared, and she couldn't think of anything that would explain things.

"He… He was pretty drunk that night," she said. It was the most pathetic excuse, but it was the only one she had.

"He wasn't _that_ drunk," said Anna. "I don't even think he was as drunk as me. Who _is_ he? Where does he come from? And what did he do to that guy at the bar to make him let Dylan buy drinks? He must have done _something_. Hazel, I'm worried about you – there's something so weird about it all! Are you going out with a spy, or something?"

Hazel stared at the girl who was her oldest friend, apart from Scorpius. Anna was joking about the spy, but only partly. Underneath, there was deep concern in her eyes. And there was nothing Hazel could say. Any story would sound ridiculous and fake, but telling Anna she was imagining things wouldn't work, and wouldn't be fair either. She'd signed up to their Statute of Secrecy, and she'd promised – several times, to more than one person – to keep their secrets. That wasn't something to be taken lightly, and she _didn't_ take it lightly.

But they weren't her laws. And Anna was one of her best friends. She was tired of the lies.

"Look, Anna, if I tell you, you have to promise to hear me out. It's going to sound weird, but it's not dodgy, I promise. Just… just listen to it, yeah?"

Her mind was racing. What the hell was she doing? Probably not the right thing. James would be horrified, and probably furious with her. Scorpius too. Maybe she was ruining everything. And would Anna even believe her?

"Okay," Anna said slowly, looking, if anything, even more worried. "I'm listening."

Hazel took a deep breath.

"Do you believe in magic?"


	12. Cleaning Up Messes

It was Tuesday morning when James discovered the advert hidden in the back of a magazine.

The letter from Oliver Wood still lay on top of his drawers in his room, under a t-shirt that he'd dropped on it so that he didn't have to look at it. Several times, he'd taken out quill and parchment, and had been on the point of writing back to Wood, but he couldn't decide what he wanted to say. Rationally, he knew that Hazel was right. He wanted to play Quidditch. And he was good enough to play Quidditch. This was an incredible chance; Puddlemere United had gone from strength to strength under Wood.

But it felt all wrong. He hadn't earned this opportunity. And what if he _wasn't_ good enough? He messed things up so often, and he wasn't sure he could take another humiliation.

He had got up late, mainly so as not to have to see his housemates going off to work while he sat around in jogging trousers. They were attempting to be tactful – at least Fenella was, and she seemed to have got the others reined in. Even Louis hadn't asked too many questions. Still, he preferred to wait until they'd all gone before he emerged, and so he was sitting alone at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and looking through _The Snidget_ , the monthly UK Quidditch magazine, when he found it. In fact, he almost flicked past it, since he was just idly glancing at articles and adverts as he looked for the review of the latest Lightstrike broom. But as he turned the page, he stopped, paused for a moment, then turned back and stared at it.

It seemed too coincidental to be true. The universe wouldn't just drop that in his lap. And yet there it was, in black and white. He read it again. James didn't believe in fate, and really it wasn't anything very surprising or unusual for a team to be holding open trials, especially one of the teams lower in the league, but for it to be _this_ team, _this_ week? That had to mean something, didn't it?

It wasn't quite on the same level as an invitation to try out for Puddlemere United. But at least in an open trial, he was just like any other hopeful. Of course, they'd know who he was, and he couldn't help it if that influenced them in any way, but at least he wouldn't just be floating in at the top thanks to his parents' connections. This would be his own thing.

* * *

The Barnstaple Bears didn't even have a proper pitch. It was just a field with hoops erected, and benches that they put up around the outside on match days. James had been there plenty of times to watch games; he'd adopted the Bears as his team at the age of eleven, when they'd first moved to Barnstaple. The entire family had laughed at him, because the Bears never won anything. They'd only been founded around the time James was born, and they were barely considered a serious team in the Quidditch world. But James had remained loyal.

And now he was here. Along with quite a lot of people, because apparently open trials were popular, even for a team like the Bears, although James was relieved to find that none of them was anyone he knew by anything more than vague sight. Most of them were older than him, and several cast him curious looks. They almost certainly recognised him, even if he didn't know who they were, but he tried to ignore the glances and focus on what he was doing.

As soon as he pushed himself into the air, though, he no longer had to try. All uncertainties fell away as the ground did – he was here to fly, and that, at least, was something he knew how to do. It had been a while since he'd played a proper game of Quidditch, but the familiar movements came back to him as easily as breathing, and sheer pleasure rushed through him as he played. He hardly thought about the fact that he was trying to impress anyone. The people he was playing alongside became teammates, not competitors, or even sets of judging eyes. James moved fluidly through the air, handling the Quaffle with the ease he always had, throwing all his energy into the game.

When he landed again, people were still looking at him, but with different expressions. He was still soaring on exhilaration, though, and hardly had a chance to consider how the trial might have gone before man he recognised immediately was standing in front of him. Tall and lean with broad features and a nose that had been broken at some point, Cliff Hawkins was an ex-Beater and current manager of the Barnstaple Bears. James had watched him play, but had never met him.

"Potter, isn't it." It ought to have been a question, but it wasn't. "Come with me. I want to talk to you a minute."

He followed Hawkins to one of the precarious benches, out of earshot from anyone else. James, staring at Hawkins, trying to work out whether this was a good sign or not. It was hard to get much from his expression. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"What are you doing here?" Hawkins asked at last.

James blinked. It seemed a weird question, under the circumstances.

"Um. I'm trying out?"

Hawkins sighed. "Don't play the idiot. I know about you. And I've just watched you play. You could get into one of the big-league teams if you wanted – and I'd be bloody surprised if you've never had an offer from one or two. Your mother knows everyone in the game. So why the hell are you here?"

James considered his answer. He had no intention of talking about family expectations or legacies to live up to. He could mention his disastrous final year at Hogwarts, and the reasons he _hadn't_ ended up with multiple offers from good teams, but they weren't really things he wanted to draw attention to, and anyway, they weren't the real reason. He could just have accepted Oliver Wood's offer if he'd wanted it.

"Because I want to be here," he said at last. "I've supported the Bears since I was eleven – I've still got your team poster on my bedroom wall. I grew up in Barnstaple, and I used to come to your games every summer. I saw you were trying people out, and I want to play for you."

He was almost surprised at how true the words were. He hadn't really thought it through himself until that moment. He'd only known that when he thought about playing for the Barnstaple Bears, his heart lightened in a way that no other career option – including the offer from Puddlemere – had ever made it.

"Hm." Again, it was impossible to know what Cliff Hawkins was thinking. "And what is it about playing Quidditch? Playing for the Bears wouldn't make you the kind of money the players at the top of the league make, you know."

Was this an interview? It felt a bit like one, and James hadn't been expecting it. He'd come to play Quidditch; he hadn't prepared for anything else.

"I know. I don't want to play for the money. I want to play because it's the only thing I feel right doing."

He felt a bit stupid after he'd said it. It was too personal, and he didn't need to bare his soul to this guy. But for the first time, Hawkins smiled.

"Yeah. That shows. Well, no promises, Mr Potter. But we'll be in touch."

 _No promises_ , but it felt like one.

Feeling happier than he had done for over a week, James headed home. He didn't plan on telling people about this – not until he knew the outcome. He had a feeling that most of them would think he was mad, to turn down Puddlemere in favour of the Bears. But that was okay. They didn't need to understand. Maybe he'd tell Hazel, but then again, maybe not. He'd rather wait until he knew for sure.

When he reached home and checked his phone, however, he found two missed calls and a text from her.

 _'Need to talk to you. Give me a call when you can x'_

He frowned at the screen, a small amount of worry filtering through the thoughts of flying and Quidditch. Hazel wasn't usually so terse, or so urgent about talking to him. He'd gone past the point of wondering at every turn whether she was going to break up with him, but _something_ was wrong. Could it be something to do with her exams? But she hadn't started them yet. She'd finished lessons for something called 'study leave', and her first exam was the next morning.

He went into his room, pressed the button to call, and held the phone to his ear. She picked up on the second ring.

"James?"

He knew as soon as he heard her voice that he'd been right.

"Hey, are you okay?"

There was a pause.

"I… I don't know."

"What's happened?" he demanded. "What's the matter?"

"James, I… I've done something stupid. Something bad."

His alarm was growing. Hazel didn't do stupid, bad things, and he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her sound this anxious.

"What? What have you done?"

He heard her take a deep breath at the other end of the phone.

"I told Anna about you," she said quietly.

James blinked. "But Anna already knows about me… Wait. What did you tell her? Not that I'm a _wizard_?"

Her silence gave him the answer.

"Hazel?" he said. A pit was opening in his stomach. This _was_ bad.

"I'm so sorry," she said desperately. "I… I didn't know what to do. Oh, God, James. What do I do?"

James had no immediate answer to that. His mind was racing.

" _Why_?" he asked at last. "Why would you tell her?"

He heard the accusing note in his own voice, but he couldn't help it. She'd signed the Statute of Secrecy. They'd let her keep her knowledge on the condition that she would keep to the laws and not tell anyone, just as she had for more than ten years. They'd trusted her. _He'd_ trusted her.

"She kept asking questions, and I… I couldn't think of a story." She sounded like she might be on the verge of tears. "I knew I shouldn't, but what could I tell her?"

"Look, I'm coming over. Are you at home?" Quidditch trials were gone from his mind. They had to do something about this, fast. "Are your parents there?"

"No. It's just me. Oh James, I'm so sorry!"

Two minutes later, he Apparated straight into her living room. It wasn't a very polite way to enter someone's home, but there was too much risk of being seen if he arrived on the street outside, and he didn't want to waste time walking from somewhere safer. She must have heard him arrive, because she appeared in the doorway almost instantly, her face white and miserable.

"James!" She started towards him, then stopped, her expression uncertain. "Are you... are you angry?"

He hesitated. His feelings were too confused to be easily labelled.

"I'm not _angry_ ," he said, not entirely truthfully. "But Merlin, Hazel!" He ran a hand helplessly through his hair. "After all that stuff the other week about not doing magic in front of your friends? You just go and _tell_ her? This is a fucking mess now!"

She bit her lip. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I just couldn't think of anything to tell her! She'd put it all together, all the stuff about you not knowing things about our world, and the thing with the guy at the bar, and she knew you didn't have a cousin in Lancaster, and she saw me coming from the wrong direction today! What could I say to her, James? She already knew I'd been lying to her. She was just about ready to tell my mum and dad she was worried about me and you – I had to say _something_. But now I've screwed it all up."

Her voice shook, and his annoyance faded away as fast as it had come. It _was_ a mess, but it was a mess that belonged to both of them, not just her.

"Oh, Merlin," he said again, but he moved towards her.

She met him, and folded into his chest, her composure breaking down. For a moment, she sobbed against him as he wrapped his arms around her.

"It's my fault as much as yours," he said, after a pause. "It was me doing that shit at your party that made her suspicious."

She took a deep breath, and lifted her face to look at him. "I should have told you that you were meant to have a cousin in Lancaster. I was trying to remember everything, but I forgot that one."

He sighed. "I was just starting to think we were over the worst of the complications too. What exactly does she know? How did she react?"

"I… I'm not totally sure." She swallowed. "I didn't tell her everything – I didn't tell her about Scorpius, but she's bound to start wondering, because she knows you were at the same school, and she already thinks Scorp's school's weird. But she doesn't know you've got a whole, you know, _world_ of magic. I tried to make it seem like it's just you who can do weird stuff, but she thought I was joking. Then when she realised I was serious, she just got even more worried about me.

"What did she say? Did she believe you?"

"I'm not sure. She freaked out on me. She ran off, and now she'll barely speak to me. So I don't know what she's doing or thinking, and she won't answer her phone or reply to texts. We've never fallen out before."

She was almost in tears again, and James lifted a hand and brushed it against her cheek. He wanted to reassure her, but he wasn't sure what to do or say. They couldn't just leave the situation, that much was obvious. But he had no clue what the right course of action was. Probably to tell the authorities – or at least his parents. That, though, could get Hazel into a lot of trouble. And possibly him as well, because casting a Confundus Charm in a roomful of Muggles would be frowned on, to say the least.

"Maybe she was just shocked," he said. "I mean, what's she so scared of? She's met me, and I'm hardly terrifying."

"Yeah, but look at it from her point of view, James." Hazel broke away from him and paced over to the window, where she turned, her face tear-stained and her eyes wide and panicky. "She knows I've been lying to her. She knows I lied about how and where I was meeting you, but she doesn't know why. She watched you show that barman your ID and then get him to do exactly what you wanted - she doesn't think you controlled him with magic, she thinks you've got some sort of hold over him! She thinks you could be anything from a criminal to a cult leader! She's scared for _me,_ being involved with you!"

"Okay." He tried to keep his own voice calm. "Well, maybe... maybe we can come up with a better story. Something she'll believe."

There was an entire office at the Ministry dedicated to creating exactly that type of story, but James knew nothing about what they did, or the sort of excuses they came up with. His mind was coming up with nothing.

"Like what? I tried telling her it was all nothing, and she didn't believe me. And now I've told her the whole thing about magic, I'd have to tell her that was a lie. Can _you_ think of something she'd buy now?"

"No," he admitted. "And I can only think of three other options. One, tell the Ministry and let them sort it out, which I'm pretty sure would end with them Obliviating her, and with you and me in quite a lot of trouble..."

"I'm not letting you get into trouble for what I did," she broke in. "And James, I _really_ don't want her memories messed around with. It isn't fair on her!"

"Right. Well, that probably puts out option two, which was me Obliviating her. And three is that we talk to her. Both of us. I could explain things a bit. And we could tell her enough to stop her freaking out, and get her not to tell anyone."

He didn't like any of the options, but number three made him the most nervous. Talking to Muggles about magic went against everything James had been taught from his earliest days. If anyone found out, there would be hell to pay.

Hazel was studying his face.

"I can't ask you to do that," she said, and her voice was steadier. "You'd be breaking the law."

He let out a small laugh. "It wouldn't be the first time I've broken a law. And we have to do something. I don't actually plan on telling the Ministry, so it's up to us."

"Oh, God, James," she said miserably. "I'm so sorry to put this on you. I don't want you to break laws for me."

He held his hand out to her.

"I'd break every law in the book for you if I needed to. But I don't need to. The worst part's done already, and if we can manage some damage control, we will. You've dealt with my messes. Now let's deal with yours."

* * *

"This is bullshit," Anna said flatly, as she stared out of Hazel's bedroom window.

James was slightly surprised she had agreed to come over, since she didn't seem open to much persuasion. If anything, she seemed _less_ believing than Hazel had seemed to think she was.

"Anna…" Hazel began.

"Hazel!" Anna whipped round. "Have you heard yourself? _Magic_? This is stuff from a kid's story! I don't know what you're trying to hide from me…"

"Look, I know it sounds weird," Hazel started again. "But what I told you wasn't a story."

" _Weird?_ " Anna broke in. "More like _insane._ What's going on, Hazel? Is it a joke? Are we on camera right now? Because this isn't funny…"

Her voice shook at the end. She was scared, James realised. Scared and confused. Maybe it would be better to ease into things – calm Anna down first, before anything else. But the only way he could think of to calm her down was to persuade her that nobody was lying to her, and then that she didn't need to be scared of magic. And he was beginning to realise that persuading her would take more than talking. He was going to have to show her.

"Nobody's trying to be funny," he said. He glanced at Hazel, who gave him a small nod. He took a deep breath. "The stuff Hazel told you is true."

That was it. No going back now. He'd officially broken the Statute. Not that he hadn't broken it in small ways before – Hazel's party wasn't the first time he'd surreptitiously done magic in front of Muggles, and he hadn't worried much about it in the past. But this was way bigger than any of that.

Anna looked at him, but he didn't know what to make of her expression. She seemed to be trying hard to keep her face under control, and it wasn't quite working, but he couldn't tell if she believed him or not. She was listening, though.

"Look, I don't want to scare you," he said. "I mean, this probably seems like a big deal to you, but honestly, it's not. Magic is real. But I'm still just me. I'm just a normal guy, I swear."

Anna's mouth twisted. " _A normal guy_?" she said, the words jerking out. "James, I don't know _who_ you are, I don't even know if that's really your name, but nothing about this is _normal_. It never has been. I should have realised from the start…"

"Of course it's my real name!" he protested.

"You can ask Scorpius too," Hazel put in. "He'll tell you – and you've known him for years, you know there's nothing weird about him!"

"Wait, Scorpius is involved in this too?" Anna demanded. "Oh my God, Hazel!"

James gave Hazel a warning glance. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to bring Malfoy into it at this point. For one thing, it was piling too much information on Anna if they had to go into all the secrets Hazel had been keeping from her for years. For another, much as it pained James to have the thought, it wasn't fair on Malfoy.

"I mean, he can tell you that James isn't pretending to be someone he's not," Hazel said, barely missing a beat. "They went to school together, like we told you."

Anna shook her head. "Fucking hell, Hazel! You're still lying to me – I can tell you are! How can you expect me to believe any of this? What have you got yourself into?"

This was more difficult than James had expected. Were Muggles always this determined not to believe in magic? Was this the sort of reaction professors got when they went to tell Muggleborn kids and their parents about Hogwarts? And how did they convince people it was true?

"There's only one way to prove we're not lying," he said. "I can show you. Will you watch? I'm not going to do anything dodgy or risky," he added, as she looked very doubtful. "Just something small. Look."

Carefully, not wanting to make sudden movements, he pulled his wand out.

Anna stared at it. "What is that?"

"A wand." James held it up to her, letting it lie sideways on his palm, careful not to point it at her. "Made out of dogwood. Not the most powerful wand in the world, but it likes me. I've had it since I was eleven. Watch this." He pointed his wand at the pile of notes on Hazel's desk. " _Wingardium Leviosa."_

The top piece of paper floated lightly off the pile and hovered there.

For a moment, there was dead silence.

"How… how are you doing that?" Anna said at last, and her voice shook.

"Magic." James let the paper drop again, and glanced round the room. There was an empty mug sitting on the bedside table, and he pointed his wand again, and transfigured it into a pine cone.

Anna backed rapidly towards the door.

"Holy shit! What are you _doing?_ " Her head turned to Hazel. "This had better be a joke, Hazel! But if it is, it's not funny!"

"It's okay," James said, trying to sound calm and reassuring. "Honestly, look. I can change it back."

"No!" She reached the door, her hand going for the handle. "I don't want to see any more! This is crap! It's not real!"

And she yanked the door open, turned and rushed out.

For a moment, James and Hazel stared at where she'd disappeared.

"Maybe when she's had time to think about it…" James started, without much hope.

Hazel turned towards him, her face white and anxious.

"And what's she going to do between now and then? James, what if she goes and tells someone?"

They would be in big trouble. James didn't think they'd be able to get away without telling the authorities if this went any further - if Muggles started talking about it between themselves, that would be a very serious breach of the Statute. He felt on the verge of panic.

"D'you think she'd do that?"

"I don't know," Hazel replied. "She's scared, so she might. I need to go after her."

"Yeah." James nodded. "Yeah, okay. Should I come?"

Hazel hesitated, then shook her head. "No, better if it's just me. Wait here - I'll come back, or text you." She made for the door, then stopped and cast an anguished look over her shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry, James."

She was gone before he had a chance to tell her – again – that this wasn't entirely her fault. Of course, in hindsight, telling Anna anything had probably been a bad idea, but Hazel hadn't been the one to make Anna suspicious. Blame seemed somewhat pointless now, anyway. It had happened.

And now there was nothing he could do except wait in her bedroom. He didn't know exactly when her parents might be home from work, but he hoped that Hazel would come back before then. Restlessly, he wandered across the room and stared down at the pine cone he'd created from a mug. Magic like that was so everyday and ordinary. And harmless. It was hard to see it the way Muggles – non-magical people – must see it, but he thought, after watching Anna's reaction, that he was starting to understand. It wasn't like him trying to manage mobile phones and those electric moving stairs – it was something so weird and unknown that it was almost impossible to believe, let alone understand.

It seemed like forever before his phone rang in his pocket. Hurriedly, he pulled it out.

"Hey, you okay?"

"No." Hazel sounded like she might be almost crying again. "She… she won't listen to me. She's gone home, but she says she's going to tell my parents…"

"What? _Why?_ What's she going to tell them?"

"That there's something weird about you. That we lied about stuff. She's worried about me, James. I don't know what she thinks the truth is – I'm not sure _she_ knows that. She's just trying to protect me, but if she tells them…"

"What do you want to do?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "D'you think there's any way we could…"

"James," she interrupted, sounding desperate and unhappy. "I think we have to do it. To... to modify her memory."

There was a small silence while James took in what she'd just said. It _was_ the obvious solution. And right now it seemed like the only way out, other than going straight to the Ministry and reporting it himself, and that would only mean that someone else did the memory modification instead of him. This way, nobody else would ever need to know what had happened. But Hazel had hated the idea so much. He'd promised never to perform magic on people without their permission, and he couldn't see them getting Anna's permission for this.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked eventually.

Now she was definitely crying. "No. But yes. I don't want to, but I can't think of anything else, can you? We have to. If my parents think there's something weird about you, they're not just going to let it go. Oh God, I hate this!"

"I know. I know. I don't want to either, but…"

"We have to. But we'll have to get rid of other things, not just what I told her. Enough to stop her being suspicious at all. Can you… can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Truthfully, he'd never had to cast a memory charm on anyone, but he knew how to do it. And all he had to remove were some small, specific things. He just had to do it carefully, which mean not panicking. "I'll come and catch you up," he said. "And we can do it now, and it'll be over. Where are you?"

* * *

Later, she lay curled in his arms on his bed. They were fully dressed, and she'd be going home later, because she had an exam the next day, but they'd both needed a bit of closeness and comfort. She had cried for a while, but now was quiet.

"I hate this," she said at last, repeating her words from earlier.

"I know. I don't exactly love it myself. But I think you were right – it was the only thing we could do."

She twisted round to look at him. "Have you ever done it before?"

"Obliviated someone like that? No," he admitted. "We're not really supposed to. We're supposed to report breaches to the Ministry and let them deal with it."

She sighed. "So you broke two laws for me."

"I suppose. But if we'd gone to the Ministry…"

There was a pause.

"What d'you think they'd have done?" she asked. "Would I have been in trouble?"

"I don't know." He hesitated. "But the only reason they decided it was okay for you to know about us is because they don't think you're a threat to secrecy. You signed the Statute to guarantee that, so if they found out you'd broken it…"

"You think they'd have taken _my_ memories?"

"I think it's definitely possible. So really everything I did today was for selfish reasons. Because I… I don't think I could stand it if you forgot about me."

She found his hand and squeezed it.

"Well. Selfish or not, thank you," she whispered. "I don't want to forget you either." She sighed. "I just can't stop feeling guilty for what we did to Anna. You know, I spent my entire childhood dreaming about magic. And I knew not all magic was good - I knew about the Dark Arts, and about all your wars and stuff. But I was still just excited about it. I never realised that even the normal stuff could be so scary."


	13. Roadtrip

"Okay, you ready?" Anna slammed the boot of her little car, and beamed round at Hazel. "That's everything in."

"Let's hit the road!" Dylan bounced up and threw an arm round each of their shoulders. "Though you need to promise me that this is safe, and I'm not going to die."

"What are you saying about my driving?" Anna demanded, in mock outrage.

"Nothing. I'm talked about your old banger of a car." He grinned at her. "Shotgun for the front seat, though."

"Er, after that insult to my car? I don't think so. Anyway, Matt's the tallest."

"Listen, that isn't how shotgun works," Dylan began.

Hazel watched them argue good-naturedly, and it was almost possible to believe that nothing bad had happened. That they hadn't done any harm. Anna was happy. It was summer, exams were over, school was finished. Could she manage to leave it behind her, and stop feeling guilty?

Matt won the front seat in the end, since it was unarguable that he had the longest legs, and he was also going out with the driver. Hazel found herself squashed into the back with Dylan, the rest of the group in a second car just behind them. Saied, Gillian and Lei. With the group in this car, they were her closest friends, aside from Scorpius, and now James. Most of them had been friends since Year Seven. And in October, they would all be splitting off to different universities. Everything was changing, but although she would be sad to say goodbye to them, it didn't feel like it was just an ending. It was the next part of life starting.

She pulled out her phone and texted James.

" _Just leaving now X"_

He was meeting them there, because he could just Apparate. Of course, what her friends believed was that he was getting the train down, which made sense, because London was a lot closer to Brighton - their destination - than Mirlton was. A small, unimportant lie, but a lie just the same. She kept telling herself that once she was at uni instead of living at home, once she was independent, she'd be able to stop the lies. But these small ones would have to continue, wouldn't they? She'd still have to explain James somehow, even to new university friends.

His reply came a few minutes later.

 _"Cool, can't wait to see you. Got some news for you x"_

From the casual phrasing, it didn't seem like the news was anything too bad, but a gnawing worry still started in her stomach.

 _"Good news or bad?"_

"Hey, who are you texting?" Dylan interrupted her thoughts. "James?"

He leaned over her shoulder, and she automatically tilted the screen away from him, not because there was anything incriminating – or even embarrassing – in the texts, but just out of general principle to thwart Dylan's nosiness. Sometimes there _were_ things in their texts she didn't want her friends reading, and not for the reasons Dylan would assume. At least, mostly not for those reasons.

"Yes. I just told him we were leaving."

"How come I still don't have his number?" Dylan demanded. "Actually, why wasn't he in our group chat for this trip?"

"Pretty sure he's dodging a bullet not being in that chat," Anna said, glancing in her mirror at them. "I really doubt he wants to get the stupid messages you and Matt send each other all day, Dylan. Which we all have to read."

Hazel smiled. She thought James might not really mind stupid messages too much, but she wasn't sure how safe it would be to have him in their group chat – and not only because of the magic issue. You never knew what Dylan might say. She'd see what this week brought before she made any decisions there.

"You really need to get him on more social media," Dylan went on, ignoring Anna. "The guy's worse than Scorpius – what is it about people from their school?"

Hazel tensed – this was dangerous ground – but Dylan wasn't serious, or even expecting an answer; he was already off on some story about whatever was happening on Instagram.

She looked back down at her phone. James had replied.

 _"Good news. Tell you when I see you x"_

Hazel locked it and tucked it into her pocket, not wanting Dylan to see the screen and start asking questions. She was glad it was good news – it was about time one of them had some. She was curious, but she knew that if he'd made up his mind to tell her in person, she wouldn't be able to shift him. He was too stubborn.

Their hotel was cheap and generic, but that didn't damage their mood when they arrived. It was the first time they'd been away as a group, with no parents or teachers, and it felt like a taster of the freedom university would bring – only with no lectures or reading lists to worry about. James was waiting for them outside. Hazel had texted him when they were about fifteen minutes away, then told the others that he was nearly there too. Of course, it only actually took him two minutes to get to Brighton, then five to walk from his Apparition spot to the hotel, so it had been easy enough for him to time his arrival with theirs.

The trip, for Hazel, was a birthday present from her parents, and she knew the same was true for quite a few of the others. She wasn't quite sure how James was funding it, since he had lost his job, and she had worried about that a little, although when she had tentatively asked, he had laughed and brushed it off. Of course, with a well-off family like his, he probably had a nice fat savings account sitting in Gringotts Bank, but still – he must be running through savings quite fast at the moment, since she knew he'd refused any help from his parents.

He'd paid for it somehow, though, and the agreement of the group was that couples got double rooms, while the others paired off in twin rooms, so they even had their own space. Hazel was a tiny bit nervous about the arrangement. They'd never spent more than one night at a time together. Was it going to be okay, living in the same room for three days and three nights?

As the door closed behind them and she dropped her bag on the floor, however, her fears began to melt away. She'd barely seen him in the last fortnight, with the last madness of exams, and after all, the fact that they were both here together was the important thing.

She crossed to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her, and kissed him. When she broke away a few moments later, she was already breathing a little harder.

"I missed you."

"Me too," he murmured, his hands moving down her back and making her shiver. "But now we have three nights, and our own room…"

"Mmhm." She kissed him again, and it was tempting not to stop, but she'd been burning to know his news all the way down in the car. "So, what's this big thing you've got to tell me?"

He, it seemed, was in less of a hurry. His lips dropped to her neck, and it was suddenly hard to gather her thoughts. She tilted her head back with a gasp, her fingers tightening in his hair. But they couldn't do this, not right now…

Jamie…"

He continued to nibble along her collar bone, and she wanted nothing more than to let him carry on with whatever he wanted to do. Instead, she used her handful of his hair to pull him back.

"James."

He lifted his head, his hair ruffled and his eyes bright, and looked at her reproachfully.

"What?"

"We said we'd be out in five minutes."

"Oh. Yeah, I s'pose we did." He pulled a face. "Damn. Save it for later?"

"Definitely." Hazel tried to steady her breathing. "Instead, how about your news?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, it actually kind of started with something I did a while back, only I didn't tell you, because… I don't know, I wanted to save it and tell you properly, and you were busy and stuff. But anyway…"

There was a knock at the door.

"Hey, you guys ready?" said Lei's voice.

"Yeah, two seconds!" Hazel called back, then lowered her voice. "Well, go on then! Tell me what it is, quick!"

James hesitated. "I can't explain in two seconds!"

"James Potter!" she hissed. "Tell me right now!"

"Okay, fine. I tried out for the Barnstaple Bears, they called me back for more try-outs, and last week they told me I've got a place on the team." He glared reproachfully at her. "And I was _going_ to make it into a good story."

Hazel was taking no notice of his reproach. She gazed at him in delight.

"The Barnstaple Bears? That's the Quidditch team you support, right? James, that's amazing! Well done!" She could feel the grin splitting her face in two as she flung her arms round his neck again. "I knew you could do it," she added into his shoulder, before pulling back.

His glare had turned into a grin, and she could tell how pleased he was. His cheeks had turned slightly red.

"Thanks," he said. "I mean, they're not the greatest team in the world. They're pretty new, and it's definitely not like playing for Puddlemere…"

"Who cares?" Hazel shrugged. "If it makes you happy – and I can tell it does. You've got loads of time to play for a team like Puddlemere in the future, if you want to. And this is all your own thing! You tried out, and you got a place, fair and square. Do your mum and dad know?"

"Yeah. They knew without me telling them – Mum knows everything happening in the Quidditch world. I thought they'd think I was crazy for turning down Puddlemere, but they didn't say anything about that. I think maybe they kind of understood after all. But you know, I don't think I'd ever have done it if you hadn't said that stuff you said – you remember, when we were on Hampstead Heath? So – thanks."

* * *

Brighton was warm, and buzzing with people enjoying themselves on a sunny June evening. They made for the pier and wandered through it towards the rides at the end. As they entered the arcade, some of the others made straight for the slot machines. Hazel leaned towards James.

"Okay, so these are gambling machines," she whispered in his ear. "You put coins in, and…"

"I know," he interrupted her. "You have them in bars and stuff. Don't worry about me."

And he headed off after Dylan and Saied.

Despite his words, Hazel felt a small, gnawing worry in her stomach as she watched him disappear. Then she turned resolutely in the other direction. She wasn't going to try to babysit him the entire time. After all the effort they'd put in, he ought to be able to hold his own with her friends by now, at least enough to talk himself out of any mistakes.

So instead, she played a few games herself, although by the time she'd fed in 50 pence in 2p coins without winning anything back, she was starting to feel bored with it.

"This is useless," Lei said in disgust beside her. "They're all rigged anyway – you're never going to get more out than you put in."

"Let's see if we can get them out of here," Hazel suggested.

She glanced over to see James, surrounded by most of the others, at the claw machine. As she watched, he positioned the claw, his brow furrowed in concentration. It snagged one of the toys inside, lifted it – and didn't drop it. Her eyebrows lifted as the pink, plush teddy bear was brought to safety, and James claimed it from the dispenser, to a cheer from Dylan.

James looked round, grinning and triumphant, as Hazel came up to him.

"Here you go. I won a present for you," he said, holding the thing out.

"Oh, God." Hazel took it, amusement fighting with resignation inside her. Amusement won, and she giggled. "Wow. Thanks. It's hideous."

To general laughter, they moved on, but Hazel's worry had suddenly returned. How had he done that so easily? The obvious answer presented itself in her mind, and she grabbed James's arm and held him back.

"You okay?" He looked quizzically down at her.

"I… Yes. I just… Did you…?" She bit her lip. Now she was regretting this. She'd thought she wanted to know, but as soon as she'd stopped him, she'd changed her mind. After all, as Lei had said, the machines were designed to trick people out of their money. If you knew a way to cheat, was there any harm in taking it? All he'd done was get her an ugly soft toy. It wasn't a big deal. She shook her head. "Never mind."

But he was looking at her with a knowing expression.

"No," he said quietly. "I didn't."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry." Hazel's cheeks burned. Would he be annoyed that she'd suspected he'd done the thing he'd promised not to? She wouldn't blame him if he was. But if he hadn't used magic, then… "How did you do that then?"

He grinned at her, not appearing to be at all annoyed.

"I happen to have very good hand-eye co-ordination," he said smugly. "And just so you know, I expect you to treasure that bear forever."

* * *

It was nearly dark by the time they were leaving the pier. The rides had closed, but the bar and the arcade were still open; they had had several drinks in the bar, and Hazel was feeling the pleasant buzz that turned the world into a warm and friendly place. She still clutched the ugly bear under one arm, but she was more inclined, now, to see the gift as a sweet – if undeniably cheesy – gesture. And life seemed good; James's fingers were linked with hers, and her friends were all around them. _Their_ friends, she thought she could safely say now. He'd fended off their questions about his life and job much more skilfully this time, and she was fairly sure that he'd be added to their group chat by tomorrow.

"Hey, guys!" Dylan's voice shouted from ahead of them.

Hazel peered through the dusk and spotted him. He'd climbed onto the white railings along the side of the pier and was balancing with his face towards them, back to the sea, his arms thrown out wide as he laughed. From his voice, he was a little drunk too, but then Dylan always got drunk.

"Who dares me to jump?" he called, putting one foot on the top of the rail, and balancing himself with one hand.

Hazel felt a lurch of anxiety. She pulled James towards Dylan.

"Dude, get down," Matt said. "You're going to fall!"

"Come on, it's not that far down!" Dylan protested, staying where he was. "And it's only water down there!" As James and Hazel came up to them, his eyes fell on them, and he grinned broadly. "Hey, James! D'you dare me?"

For a split second, Hazel tightened her grip on James's hand. Because James and Dylan were two of a kind, weren't they? Both rushing into things without thinking about them, both liking a little bit of danger, both unable to resist a dare.

But, to her relief, James obviously wasn't as drunk as Dylan. He shook his head.

"Nah, don't do it. You don't know how deep it is."

"Dylan, stop it." Gillian reached for him. "Literally nobody's daring you, so don't be a dick!"

Hazel wasn't sure if it was because he was trying to stop Gillian grabbing him, or if he was turning to jump anyway, or if it was just sheer bad luck. But, as if in slow motion, she saw his white trainers slip on the rail. His arms flew out to save himself, and grasped only air. Gillian shrieked, and she and Matt – the closest people to him – both leaped forwards, but too late.

With a scream of sudden fear, Dylan vanished over the edge of the pier.


	14. Somewhere In Between

**A/N: Last chapter, folks. Thanks to everyone, including the anons, who have reviewed and favourited this story so far! I really appreciate the feedback, so please leave me a comment if you liked it!**

 **And I'll do my usual spiel for anyone who hasn't read any of my other fics: All my HP stories are on the same timeline and feature the same characters, so if you're interested in my Next Gen (or the odd other gen fic in the same universe), or you want to read more about James and/or Hazel, do check out the others! There will be at least one more multi-chap to come in this universe, and probably a few oneshots at some point as well. :)**

* * *

It took James a second to realise what had happened. One minute, they had all been strolling along, laughing, chatting, and enjoying themselves. The next, disaster had struck. Several people screamed. Gillian hung over the railing, shouting Dylan's name.

James let go of Hazel's hand, and raced towards the edge of the pier. It was half-dark, and the water that roiled round the huge struts of the pier seemed almost black, except where the foam showed white. He leaned over, searching for some sign of Dylan. Had he fallen clear, or had he hit the pier on the way down?

Strangers were gathering around them, all talking at once, shouting and asking questions. There was an argument over whether to call the police or the coastguard. Someone was on their phone.

James's wand was in his hand. He'd drawn it without thinking, but nobody was looking at him anyway. The trouble was, he didn't know what to do with it. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. Someone like Dad would probably have Dylan out of the water by now, without anyone knowing what had happened. But James had no idea what to do.

He glanced wildly up and down. A little further along, two people were wrestling a large, orange ring off a post. A life buoy. The memory popped into James's head—a beach holiday they'd had when he was little, Albus asking what the big orange thing was, and Dad explaining.

Without stopping to think, James elbowed his way through the knot of people beside him to the two with the buoy.

"Give it here!" he ordered without preamble.

They stared at him.

"You what?" one of them said.

"Give it to me," James repeated, trying not to lose patience. "I can throw. Properly."

"He can! Let him have it!" Hazel arrived beside him, her face pale in the darkness.

There was no time to argue. The man holding it let James take it, and James, sticking his wand in his back pocket, turned and clambered part-way up the white fence. He used one knee to balance himself on the top. He hadn't been lying—he could throw well. It was a necessary part of being a Chaser, and James had practised for long hours. Even as he climbed, he was taking in the wind speed and direction, and calculating how much he'd have to compensate for it. But where was Dylan? Had he gone under? There was no sign of him in the dark water, and James's heart sank.

Lights from mobile phones flashed in every direction onto the surface of the water, but they weren't strong enough to show much, and the water was too rough. People shouted Dylan's name, but there was no audible reply.

There was only one option. James balanced the ring over one shoulder, grasped his wand in his hand again, and took a deep breath. If he was quick, nobody would notice, at least so he hoped. He just wished he was better at non-verbal spells.

 _"Homenum Revelio,_ " he murmured quietly, and cast the spell out and downwards, towards the crashing sea, and the place he knew Dylan had to be.

The spell was just visible, but only—James hoped—if you knew what you were looking for. A dark shimmer of air, its edge marked by tiny red sparks, skimmed out from the end of his wand, spreading out as if he'd thrown a huge, wide net across the water. Was there anything there? Yes! The red sparks lit up brighter, a cluster of them in a sudden glow, marking human presence.

James didn't dare maintain the spell. He let his wand drop, and it was over in a second, but he knew where to aim for now. Dimly, he was aware of Hazel leaning on the rail beside him, but he focused only on that spot in the water. He put his wand between his teeth so he could use both hands, took aim, and flung the thing in a strong, swinging motion, the type he'd use for a long-distance pass on the Quidditch pitch.

He held his breath as it arced through the air. His aim was good, but he couldn't see his target. There was a faint splash as it hit the water.

"Is he there? Can you see him?" a voice—Gillian, he thought—called from behind him.

He didn't answer. The bright orange ring showed up well enough as it bobbed about, except when it disappeared behind a wave. But was that moving shape Dylan, or just a shifting shadow? Could he risk _Homenum Revelio_ again? Everyone was watching now, but he had to do _something._

Then a sudden parting of the water, just where the the light from a lamp on the pier shone, showed him that the shadow was indeed a human head. It was the only part of Dylan above water. How long did it take a person to drown? James didn't know, but he knew that Dylan was too far away from where the life buoy had fallen. He'd never reach it without help. James could haul it up and try again, but precious seconds were ticking by.

He didn't stop to think longer. Never mind if people saw. If it saved a life—his friend's life—it was worth anything that came afterwards.

Silently—it was one spell that he could do non-verbally—he cast a levitation spell as strongly as he could. Not on Dylan, but on the buoy, which rose slightly from the surface of the water. James, his wand held surreptitiously close to his body, his eyes screwed with concentration, pushed it straight at Dylan.

Could he get hold of it? Did he still have the strength? If not, James would have to try levitating Dylan himself. That wouldn't work—couldn't work. _Wingardium Leviosa_ didn't work on humans, and he'd have to hoist Dylan by his soaked clothes, through water rather than air. His clothes were entirely submerged, and he'd be virtually impossible to lift. Panic coursed through James at the thought, but then he saw a movement, the dark shape of an arm flung over the orange ring.

"Has he got it?" Hazel asked breathlessly beside him.

"I think he has!" James twisted round to the crowd behind him. "I think he's got it! Try pulling, someone!"

Several pairs of hands seized the rope and hauled. James watched anxiously as the rope tightened—and pulled tight. No light buoy flying back up to the pier, but the weight of a person hanging onto the end of it. He pushed his wand back into his pocket, out of sight, and hung over the rail, putting his weight to the rope. He couldn't help this part with magic without someone noticing, but he could at least lend his strength.

It seemed to take a horribly long time. The rope swung wildly, and all James could do was hope that Dylan neither let go nor hit one of the huge posts of the pier. Then, finally, he was within reach.

James stretched down and grabbed his arm, cold and slippery with water. Someone else—a stranger—leaned over beside him, and between them, they hauled Dylan up and over the railing.

He collapsed onto the ground despite James's supporting arm, coughed, retched, and brought up a lot of what looked mostly like sea water. Then he stayed there on the ground, soaked and shivering, his eyes dazed and his face white in the light from the pier lamps.

"Hey, are you okay?" James crouched beside him. "Are you hurt?"

"Dylan!" Gillian pushed through the crowd and dropped to the ground with them. "Is he okay?" She looked at James, then back at Dylan. "Oh my God, Dylan, I can't _believe_ you!"

James looked up. The others were crowded round him, along with a whole bunch of random strangers.

"Dylan, you fucking idiot!" Matt put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Can you hear us? Can you talk?"

"Hey, stand out the way there! Let's come through!" a new voice called.

Matt was pushed aside, and two men in green uniforms were there, carrying bags and boxes.

"This him? Right, let's get a look at you, son," one of them said, and looked at James and Gillian, as the two closest. "Was he conscious when you pulled him out?"

"Yes," James said, standing up so that the men could get in.

"How long was he in the water for?"

"I don't know." James looked helplessly at the others. He hadn't been paying attention to time when he'd been trying to think how to get Dylan out. It had felt like ages, but it couldn't have been that long really.

"Ten minutes, maybe," a stranger answered for them. "Maybe a bit more. Not long. This lad got the buoy to him on the first throw…"

The stranger's tone was admiring, but he trailed off. Nobody was paying attention after he'd answered the initial question, which was a relief to James. How much had people noticed of what he'd done? The men were concentrating on Dylan now, talking to him, and Dylan was croaking out answers as they helped him pull his t-shirt off and wrapped a blanket round his shoulders. A woman in a blue jacket—another uniform, but James didn't know enough about non-magical emergency services to recognise it—was making everyone move back. Blue lights flashed at the end of the pier. James found that his own hands were shaking, and he felt slightly sick. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to stop the trembling. Until now he hadn't stopped to think, but now it was sinking in. Dylan could have died.

A hand slipped under his arm, and he looked down to find Hazel there.

"James…" she whispered.

He put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to him. It was comforting just to feel her there. But there was something he had to say, and he had to say it now, before he bottled it.

"Hazel, I did magic just then," he muttered, close to her ear. "I'm sorry, I know I promised, but…"

She pulled away just far enough to look up at him, her eyes wide.

"James! God, Jamie." She turned so that she was facing him, and put a hand on his chest. "You saved his life. D'you seriously think I'm going to be upset about that?"

She broke off, glancing over his shoulder. Dylan was being helped to his feet, and Anna, who'd stayed closer with Matt and Gillian, came up to them.

"They're taking him to the hospital," she said. "They think he's okay, but they want to check—Matt and Gillian are going with him."

The little group passed close by them, Dylan flanked by the two men in green. As they passed, however, Dylan suddenly paused to look at them, staring at James as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"Hey, dude," he said, his voice still rough. "They said it was you who threw that thing—so, um, thanks. I mean… that was…"

"All right, time for that later," one of the men said kindly. "Come on."

Dylan went with them, saying no more, though he looked over his shoulder at them as he walked away. Hazel squeezed James's hand.

"He's right, though," Saied said, coming up behind them. "I mean, you basically saved him. If he'd stayed in there much longer…"

The whole thing still felt unreal. James supposed what they said was true, although surely someone else would have been able to get Dylan out somehow. It was hard to believe that the fun, light-hearted weekend could have turned into a tragedy so easily.

"I didn't do that much," he muttered.

The others—Saied, Lei and Anna—looked at each other.

"It was a pretty incredible throw, though," Lei said. "Seriously. I don't know how you managed to get it that close to him."

"Luck, mostly," James said. He was feeling lucky, although not for his throw—more because it seemed as if, in all the confusion, nobody had noticed his spells. And he didn't want to give that luck a chance to run out. "Should we head back?" he said hurriedly. "I mean, there's nothing we can do here, right?"

"Matt said he'd call when they know anything," Anna said. "I suppose we could go to the hospital too, but I doubt if they'd let us see him. Not all of us, anyway."

They drifted away, to James's relief. Hazel's friends might not have noticed anything too strange, but there were a lot of other people around too. He suspected that people would have questions, and he didn't want to have to answer any. This was one situation where he'd much rather not have been the hero.

"I hope Dylan's okay," Hazel said as they walked, before anyone could start talking about James's throwing skills again. "And I hope he's not in any trouble either. I mean, he did sort of try to jump before he fell."

"D'you think we should ring his mum?" Saied said.

There was a gloomy pause. James was pretty sure they were all imagining parental reactions, and foreseeing a sudden end to the trip.

"We should wait until we've heard from Matt and Gillian," Anna said at last. "Someone might have already called her."

They reached the hotel, and gathered together in the room being shared by Lei and Gillian. Nobody talked much. Everyone was tired, but no-one wanted to go to bed until they knew what was happening. After they'd been there about half an hour, idly chatting, with long pauses in the conversation, Anna's phone rang.

"Hey," she said, picking up on the second ring. "How is he?"

Matt's voice buzzed for a minute on the other end, but they couldn't hear what he said. However, after the first few seconds, Anna gave them a smile and a thumbs up. Although James had been fairly sure, after seeing him walk away on the pier, that Dylan was going to be okay, seeing that gesture was still a relief. It seemed as if everyone else felt that too—there was a sudden relaxation in the room.

"So, what's going to happen?" Anna asked at last. "Have you told his mum?"

She paused again for Matt to reply, and James thought there was a slightly irritated note to the faint voice he could hear.

"Okay," Anna said. "Well, I can come… Oh, yeah, maybe I shouldn't. Are you sure? Well, we can all give you some money. Okay. See you in a bit, then."

She hung up, and looked round at them.

"Well. Dylan's fine, but they're going to keep him in overnight to be sure. Matt and Gillian are getting a taxi back—I'm pretty sure me and Lei both drank too much for us to be driving yet, and none of the rest of you are insured on our cars. I said we'd help pay."

James stayed silent. He could have Apparated up there and fetched them, except that, of course, he couldn't.

"The police have been there too," Anna went on. "Apparently, they told him off, but they're letting it go as an accident."

"White boy privilege," Saied interrupted, with a faint grin.

"Basically," Anna agreed. "And he wouldn't let anyone ring his mum—Matt's kind of pissed off with him, but he's saying he doesn't want to wreck the weekend."

"You'd have thought he'd already done that," Lei commented.

"Yeah, well. He's eighteen, so the hospital and the police can't do anything if he doesn't want them to. So unless one of us does…" She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he swears he's fine, and if we tell his mum, she'll make him come home, which would mean ours would probably do the same, so he's got a point. But I suppose we'd better wait until we see him tomorrow." She sighed. "For what it's worth, apparently he also says he's really sorry."

* * *

It was well after midnight by the time James and Hazel were back in their own room, which wouldn't have been particularly late if they'd just been out having fun, but James felt bone-tired as they made their way down the hallway. He was cold, too, since he'd never changed out of his wet clothes; they were pretty much dry now, but still felt unpleasantly chilly, and sticky with salt.

He also hadn't had a chance to talk to Hazel alone. She wasn't upset that he'd done magic—he supposed he had had a fairly good excuse for it—but he was still uncomfortable about it. He'd had to cast spells in front of a whole crowd of Muggles. Nobody had said anything, or apparently noticed anything, but what if there were strangers going around right now, talking about the weird way the life buoy had floated over to the kid in the sea? What if the police decided to ask more questions?

And aside from that, whether Hazel was angry or not, it had highlighted, all over again, the reasons she'd come close to breaking up with him. The fact that he could do magic, that sometimes he _had_ to do magic, and she couldn't.

Hazel kicked her shoes off as soon as she was through the door, and sat down on the bed.

"God, I'm tired," she said. "He's such a stupid twat! I can't believe he did that!"

James shrugged. He didn't feel very angry with Dylan himself—only relieved that he was all right.

"Well, I can't say much. I've done things just as stupid."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Things I don't know about?"

"Yeah." James pulled his own shoes off, sat down beside her, and then flopped backwards so that he was lying on the bed. "Wow, I might just fall asleep like this."

She lay down beside him, and rolled so that one arm was over his chest, her eyes dancing at him.

"You think you're getting away with that? _What_ things have you done?"

"Do I have to list them now?" He tried to think of one of the slightly less embarrassing ones. "When I was fifteen, I ruptured my stomach by swallowing exploding chewing gum as a dare. That count as stupid?"

"Oh my God!" She looked torn between laughter and horror. "Were you all right?"

"Well, clearly. I got rushed to St Mungo's pretty quickly, though. And it was probably the most pain I've ever been in," he added thoughtfully. "Except maybe the broken leg last year. They were just about equal."

"Well, okay." She laid her head down, her cheek resting on his chest. "But the broken leg wasn't your fault, and the chewing gum thing was when you were fifteen, not eighteen."

"Well, I could go on listing all the other times I've been an idiot if I really wanted to make the point, but I'm not going to," he said sleepily, lifting his hand and running his fingers through her hair. "Hazel, are you really okay with the fact that I did magic?" he asked abruptly.

She lifted her head again.

"James, you saved my friend's life. I don't care about some stupid promise! And anyway…" She paused, and sat up, looking down at him, a worried frown on her face. "I was… Well, I think I was wrong about that whole thing. Not about you doing magic _on_ people—I still think the same about that. But… but it wasn't fair of me to ask you not to do magic in other ways, when nobody was even around."

"You didn't," James broke in. "I offered to do that. To learn about your world."

"Yeah, you offered, because you knew how I was feeling, so you did it to make me happy," she countered. "Which, don't get me wrong, I really appreciate. But I… I don't know how to explain this, Jamie. My whole life, I've thought about magic. I was almost obsessed with it when I was a kid. I always thought it was just incredible, and, well, magical! But then I saw what it could do, what it could _really_ do, and I don't know, I got freaked out. And ever since then, I've been thinking of magic as this huge, scary thing. But the problem is, I always saw it as something that sort of existed by itself, outside of us. I mean, I never really saw Scorpius doing magic, except once or twice when we were younger. So, I literally saw it as this whole other world, a big separate _thing_. But it isn't like that, is it? Magic isn't a thing that you just _do_ , it's a part of you. And I'm not going to ask you to hide a part of you when you're around me. I don't want that!"

James stared up at her. He'd never even thought of it in that way—he'd never thought about it much at all—but what she said about magic was true. And the fact that she'd thought of it, that she cared like that, made his heart twist in the best possible way.

"I didn't mind," he said at last.

"I know." She leaned down and kissed him. "But it still wasn't fair. I love _you_ , James—every part of you, including the magic. You've got your world, and I've got my world, but we can make our own world in between both of them—can't we?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "Yeah, we can. I'd like that."

He put a hand up and pulled her down again to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her hair, her heart beating close against his.

"James…" She broke away a moment later. "Are you actually so tired you want to go to sleep right there?"

He laughed. "Well, I'll probably manage to get properly into bed first. If I make an effort."

"Okay." She smiled at him. "But what I really meant was… Are you too tired to finish what we started earlier?" As she spoke, her hand moved down his abdomen, over his belt, and then lower still.

His breath caught, and sleep seemed a lot less appealing.

"Tired?" He rolled, and took her with him, so that she was the one on her back. She giggled up at him, and he kissed her hard, then pulled away just far enough to breathe against her lips. "Who the hell said I was tired?"

* * *

Anna drove to the hospital the next morning to pick Dylan up, and he arrived looking slightly pale, and shadowy round the eyes, but otherwise entirely back to normal. They ate a large brunch in a café, and by the time they were finished, there was no evidence than anything had ever happened to him.

"Are you seriously not even going to tell your mum?" Lei asked at one point.

Dylan shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of sausage and mushrooms.

"It'd only worry her for zero reason. And you know she'd tell me to come home, which is stupid. I'm fine. Let's stick to the plan and have a good time for the next couple of days, and I'll tell her when I'm home. Maybe."

"She'll kill you, you know that, right?" Matt said. "And probably us too."

Dylan grinned. "Yeah, but we'll have had the trip by then, won't we?"

And so they went along with it, and, as they walked through the Pavilion Gardens and along the seafront, the sun and the wind seemed to chase away everyone's worries.

James's mind was lighter than it had been for a long time. Of course, he was still hanging out with a bunch of non-magical people, so he still had to hide what he was. But that didn't matter if Hazel was comfortable with him again.

Their own world in between, she'd said. It was a good thought, not least because it suggested she was thinking of a future with him, a future that went beyond this summer. They both had new lives ahead of them—his playing for the Bears, and hers at university. But they could build those lives, and whatever came after, together.

It wasn't until they were eating fish and chips in the early evening, sitting on the stony beach, that Dylan came and sat beside him.

"So, I never really properly said thanks," Dylan said quietly.

"Yeah, you did. Right after, on the pier."

Dylan shook his head. "I don't remember a lot of that. Anyway, I'm going to say it again. Thank you. You saved my life."

The others were all laughing over something not far away, and James almost wished he was too. It was hard to know what to say when Dylan didn't even know what James had really done. He needed everyone to move on from talking about it as soon as possible.

"Any time," he said, forcing a smile.

Dylan laughed. "Well, hopefully there won't be another time. I was kind of stupid."

"Well, you were drunk," James pointed out, taking a bite of a chip. "Everyone's stupid when they're drunk."

For a short beat, they were silent. Then Dylan looked sideways at him, and lowered his voice.

"So… What did you actually do?"

"What?" James blinked at him. "I… um. I threw the life ring thing for you. And helped pull you up. That's it, really. It's just lucky I can throw straight."

Dylan narrowed his eyes.

"Look," he said. "You're right, I was drunk. And I was also almost drowning in really cold water. But I'm not always a total idiot." He grinned. "However good you are at throwing, you can't make things fly sideways across water, when you're up above them. And maybe I imagined this bit, but I don't think so. Something happened when I was in the water— right before you threw the ring. It was really weird, like something sort of flying over me, right by my head. Only there was nothing there." He tilted his head as he looked at James. "So… what'd you do?"

The world, which a moment ago had seemed a pleasant, sunny place, was coming crashing down. It was happening again. He couldn't keep Obliviating Hazel's friends, could he? What the hell should he do? His brain said, _deny everything_ , and, in faint hope that it would work, James put on the best puzzled expression he could.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, hearing the falseness of his own voice. "I threw you the buoy. That was it—I didn't do anything else."

"Right. You did nothing. Same nothing you did when you got us served at Hazel's party." He grinned triumphantly at James's shock. "Same nothing Scorpius Malfoy did last Christmas when he stopped a whole bunch of glasses falling and smashing, and said he just managed to catch the tray, even though he never fucking touched it. Nobody saw that except me…"

This second shock almost jarred James out of the first one.

 _"What?"_ he said again.

He shouldn't feel any sort of delight over this revelation. It was bad—the whole thing was bad, because Dylan had guessed even more than Anna, and James would have to do something about it right now.

But at the same time, Malfoy, with all his smug acting like he'd got it all sussed, had apparently made mistakes too. Did Hazel know about that? Somehow, James didn't think so.

"Come on," Dylan said, though the smallest note of doubt had crept into his voice. "I know you can do weird shit. I've _seen_ it, dude! I'm not going to tell anyone. And I won't ask any more questions if you don't want me to. But I'm right, aren't I?"

James looked at him. Dylan was still smiling, and it was a genuine, friendly smile, even with the question in it. Did he trust someone who got drunk and jumped off piers? Well, his family and friends would probably say that was the sort of thing they'd expect from James himself, so why not? At least he wasn't freaking out like Anna had. And it was easier than Obliviating him.

"It's not about what I want," he said quietly. "I can't answer any more questions." He met Dylan's eyes, and saw supressed excitement in them. Well, what the hell? "But yeah, you're right."

Dylan's eyes lit up, and James could see the questions fighting behind them.

"I _knew_ it," he murmured exultantly. "Shit. I knew I was right, but holy shit." He grinned as he looked at James. "Thanks. For telling me, I mean. And I won't say a thing. Secret's safe."

And James believed him. Whatever else Dylan was, he was trustworthy, James was sure of it.

"Hazel knows, right?" Dylan went on.

"Yeah, she knows." But James was thinking about something else. He glanced at the others, who still weren't paying any attention—probably assuming that Dylan was saying some heartfelt thanks for being rescued. He leaned in slightly. "So, I'm going to need you to tell me. What exactly did Malfoy—I mean Scorpius—do?"

~The End~


End file.
